Sins Of The Father
by JoaniexJony
Summary: A request for assistance turns out to be a trap for Sheppard and McKay. John knows why Rodney was taken, but why him? Shep whump! a little for Rodney too, set after 'Conversion' in season 2. The is a John/Rodney centric fic, but no slash.
1. Chapter 1

A request for assistance turns out to be a trap for Sheppard and McKay. John knows why Rodney was taken, but why did they want him? Shep whump! And some minor whump for Rodney too. This fic is set after 'Conversion' in Season 2 and is centred around the two boys.

Disclaimer:- Not mine, only wish it was!

Warning:- Pretty dark, with some torture later on.

Many thanks to **Sterenyk Strey **for being my beta on this fic, and for all her great suggestions! - All mistakes are mine.

SINS OF THE FATHER

CHAPTER 1

Dr Rodney McKay knew there were certain constants in life. One of those was him, saving the day, on a weekly if not daily basis, usually under impossible circumstances, and always with Sheppard on his case asking, 'How long?' The other was the same irritatingly punctual man, glaring at him with a pissed off expression whenever _he_ arrived late in the 'gate room.

As he'd told Sheppard on many occasions, it wasn't really his fault. Everyone knew the work of the foremost expert on wormhole physics was of such immense importance, it did make him _slightly_ late on occasion. So therefore, this was definitely a first as here he was waiting, with all his kit neatly packed by his side, but where the hell was Sheppard?

After checking his watch for the umpteenth time, Rodney finally looked up and saw the gangly gait of one Lt Colonel John Sheppard as he slowly ambled towards him, with a stupid, smug grin on his face.

"And where have you been? Do you know how long I've been standing here, twiddling my thumbs waiting for you?"

Rodney suddenly sneezed when his nose began itching. "What's that smell? Oh, no, it's started, I can feel my sinus's blocking up already…You do know what that means; antibiotics, the headaches from hell and if I'm really unlucky, which I usually am, I'll probably end up suffering for days in the infirmary. I keep telling Radek to get the aircon fixed, but no, you can't trust anyone to do even the smallest thing right around here!" McKay sneezed again, blew his nose, then turned to stare at Sheppard accusingly." Wait just at minute… it's coming from, you, isn't it? You're wearing perfume!"

McKay noticed Sheppard didn't even look up, far too intent in double checking his tac vest for supplies "First off, I'm not late Rodney, you're early. And for the record, men don't wear perfume, its called _aftershave._ But in my case, it's just deodorant...maybe you should try some."

McKay glared. "Hardy har har, very funny I'm sure. But you're hiding some…Wait a minute, now I understand, _duh_...how could I be so stupid? Blonde hair, piercing blue eyes…its Hollena isn't it? That's the only reason you want to come with me today. Of course it is, why else would _Colonel_ Sheppard come on a routine scientific mission? Anyway, where's _Conan_ and _Xena_, aren't they joining us?"

John looked up, his face the picture of innocence. "If you're referring to Ronon and Teyla, they're on a trading mission to PX7 149 and won't be back for a couple of days. As for Hollena, I haven't a clue what you mean." He patted McKay on the shoulder. "It's a sad day when I can't spend some quality time with my team mate without him reading something into it. Shame on you, McKay. Anyway, it's time we got going, we can't keep the lovely Hollena waiting, can we?"

Sheppard smirked, gave the signal to Chuck and within seconds the two men disappeared into the blue event horizon.

ooooOoooo

Tynos was more advanced that most of their allies. Except, while the marble and chrome high rise buildings gave the impression of an advanced race, it was clear after their first visit some time ago, the reality was in fact very different. While they were an industrial society, around the same stage as 1970's earth, the sad fact was they couldn't offer Atlantis any technological assistance. However, they did brew a pretty neat local ale which went down easy, didn't give much of a hangover, and was therefore very popular with the marines on the base. In return for regular supplies, McKay was liaising with their chief scientist, Hollena Timouran, helping them develop what technology they did have, especially showing them how to improve their energy production.

The fact that lady proffered a winning combination of brains plus beauty hadn't escaped John's notice either. One of the perks of being CO was he could pick and choose his missions, so much to the annoyance to his usually laid back 2IC, he'd made a point on this occasion, of accompanying Rodney so he might just get the opportunity to get to know the lovely Hollena a little better. However, since arriving nearly thirty minutes ago, there had been no sign of the beautiful blonde, plus the further they walked towards the town the place was just too damn quiet...

Sheppard raised his P90, keeping a firm grip, as his eyes scanned the perimeter for hostiles. "Are you sure you have the right time McKay? Or the right day even? And who was it who actually asked for assistance this time anyway?"

Rodney glared with annoyance at his friend, but quickly discarded his heavy pack, in favour of his own weapon. "I'm going to ignore you said that, but now you come to mention it, the request came through Marcen, Hollena's assistant."

The two men exchanged a concerned look. "Well, regardless of who it was, I don't like this…head back to the 'gate Rodney, we're going home."

"Don't be so hasty, Colonel Sheppard."

Sheppard recognised the disembodied voice as belonging to Marcen. "That's a neat trick Marcen, but where the hell are you?" John motioned McKay to check the life signs detector, but after a few moments Rodney looked up and shook his head. Nothing.

John raised his binoculars and began to check out the surrounding area. On the right, was a small river bank strewn with bright yellow wildflowers, it's clear blue water meandering through an overgrown forest. The lush green trees, unfortunately giving nothing away, providing plenty of cover for anyone wanting to mount an ambush. There were no signs of life, unless of course you counted the local wildlife, which he didn't, but it still didn't mean no one was there.

On the other side were fields, stretching out as far as the eye could see, each filled with golden crops rising over four feet into the air. John sighed, knowing while the bumper harvest was good news for the farmers it was bad news for them, as this too was yet another vantage point where an enemy could lie undetected. Under normal circumstances, Sheppard would have reckon they were probably surrounded, but there was no way of knowing for sure. The detector could be on the fritz, but not likely, as Ancient tech rarely broke down. In any case his own instincts were seldom wrong, and he could swear there was no one out there. That however didn't explain the voice…until he spotted a transmitter lying partially hidden by undergrowth at the side of the road.

"Very good, Colonel Sheppard I see you've finally found the transmitter, so now that I have your full attention, please, put down your weapons."

Sheppard couldn't see a damn thing, but If Marcen thought he was parting with his weapon, just like that, he'd better think again. Then, suddenly, a shot rang out and dust flew in the air by his feet.

"Now, Colonel. I'm not going to ask you again. If you don't place your weapons on the ground within the next thirty seconds, the next shot will be through Dr McKay's head."

Sheppard had played Vegas a few times in the past, with not a little success. But alone, in the middle of nowhere, with no backup nearby, he didn't like these odds and wasn't prepared to risk the life of his friend. So with reluctance, he placed his weapon carefully down onto the ground and signalled Rodney to do the same. He was pissed though, why did this keep happening to his team? After all, this was only supposed to be a routine mission.

John put his hands in the air and stared incredulous, as Marcen appeared from nowhere, along with four men. _What the hell?_

"I'm impressed, Marcen." Rodney's eyes searched the area, looking for evidence of how he got here. "If you don't mind me asking, how exactly did you do that, and if you're people are capable of that level of technology, why did you ask for my help?"

As Marcen walked towards Rodney, a slow smile grew on his face. "I'm flattered, Dr McKay that you think I am capable of creating this invention," he pointed to a smooth metallic bracelet around his wrist. "but I cannot take the credit I'm afraid. I found this device, along with a few other gadgets, in an hidden lab some time ago. At the time, like a good little assistant, I initially brought it to the attention of Hollena. It was my hope that she, as head scientist, would encourage the government to invest money, and free up the resources necessary to research it. In the beginning, she agreed. However, after one of the technicians died, my foolish boss halted the project, disregarded it as _dangerous, _and sealed the lab refusing to even consider examining the other pieces. I'll admit it does have a flaw, but I believe if we had just persevered, this bracelet could have been the start of returning our city back to its former glory."

Rodney automatically sought to examine the bracelet out of innate scientific curiously, but when he went to touch it, Marcen stepped back. "And what exactly is this flaw?"

"That, Dr McKay, is a discussion which will have to wait until we get back to the security of my base."

Marcen turned to Sheppard, looking him straight in the eye, before cocking his gun. "Where do you want it colonel?"

John glared at Marcen, the meaning of his words all too clear…"You could just tie me up you know. After all, you're the one with the fancy gizmo and all of the weapons. I'm no threat to you now."

McKay looked at John, puzzled. "What's he saying, Sheppard?"

"Marcen wants to shoot me, Rodney, and is being kind enough to ask where I want the bullet."

"What…you can't be serious…why? Sheppard's right! Can't you just tie him up…or something? Anyway, it's me you want. Please…just tie him up and leave him behind. You don't need to hurt him!"

"Now there you are wrong, Dr McKay. If it were just you I wanted, I could have taken you at any time during the last couple of months. Colonel Sheppard however, does not always accompany you, therefore when my spies watched you arrive, and seen you together…well let's just say I am pleased to be finally able to carry out my plans."

John smirked "You were waiting on me? My, I am flattered, but also curious. Why me? I'm a soldier, not a scientist…and if I'm so important to your plans, why do you want to shoot me?"

"All these questions!" Marcen raised his voice, his impatience evident. "As I've already said, you will find out a little later. In the meantime, where we are going is not as secure as I would like, and you, Colonel Sheppard are a dangerous man. Therefore, it's my intention to incapacate you, not kill you, just to negate that threat. Plus with you injured, it is unlikely Doctor McKay would run off leaving you behind."

"I have to admit, that's one weird plan you have there, chief. Seriously though, a good stout piece of rope or even chains usually do the trick in keeping me in line." John saw Marcen continue staring at him, with a look which told him his day was about to get a whole lot worse.

"Not impressed by the traditional methods are you? Okay…If I _really_ have to choose, what about there." Sheppard pointed to the upper bicep of his left arm. He gave Rodney a lopsided grin. "Always wanted to score a hat-trick."

Marcen smirked. "I've always enjoyed your sense of humour, Colonel. However, I was thinking more along the lines of which _leg._"

Sheppard knew he wasn't getting out of this one. There was no Ronon or Lorne, or anyone else coming to their rescue…He glanced over at Rodney, trying to reassure him, but failed miserably as the guy looked horrified. _Well…here goes nothing _"Left calf. But wait just a minute; I want McKay out of harm's way just in case you miss."

"I never miss, Colonel. My mother was in the militia, and she put a gun in my hand as soon as I was able to walk."

Although he was expecting it, red hot lead piercing though his skin always hurt like a bitch. One minute he was standing, staring his enemy in the face, next he was lying on the ground, clutching his right thigh, writhing in pain. He felt sick and dizzy but he suppressed a groan as McKay quickly came to his side.

"What kind of a man are you? I mean its bad enough you shoot him, but can't you even get that right? He said the left calf and you shoot him in the right thigh, you moron!"

"I…think…he…knew…Rodney."

Blood was leaking from the wound, and John could feel his pulse racing, with beads of sweat running down his face. He wasn't a medic, but he'd been shot enough times to know it was a through and through, fortunately missing the femoral artery. Nevertheless shock was often a side effect of gun shot wounds, and he could feel it setting in fast.

Concern was etched on Rodney's pale face as he quickly grabbed a field dressing from his vest, and bound it tightly around the wound. John knew it had to be done, but it hurt like crazy and he hissed in pain. "I'm sorry, John, but I have to stop the bleeding."

ooooOoooo

Sheppard's eyes, glazed with pain caught his "It's… _**agh**_…okay, Rod…"

Rodney hated to witness the pain on John's face, his friend's eyes watering as he struggled to conceal his agony, only his furrowed brow revealed how much he was hurting. Anxiety threatened to overwhelm him when John choked on a cry as he pressed hard against the gaping wound, but the blood still flowed freely. He frantically reached for another dressing to staunch the blood seeping through his fingers, alarmed when he heard a groan and turned to see John's eyes close over, as his body went limp and he fell unconscious upon the dry, dirt road.

He panicked, as his friend passed out in front of him, and turned to confront Marcen. "Just so you know, if he dies, you'll get no help from me you bastard! I hope where ever the hell you're taking us has a doctor, because if Sheppard doesn't get medical attention soon, he'll bleed to death. And, excuse me for stating the obvious, but he won't be any use to you then!"

ooooOoooo

Marcen ignored the outburst, and nodded to two of his men who lifted the limp body of the stricken man, while one of the others pushed Rodney around, threw a burlap sack over his head, then tied his hands firmly behind his back with thick rope. Only once he was satisfied neither man could pose a threat, did Marcen touch the bracelet revealing its secret. Within seconds the landscape distorted into a shimmering echo of itself, revealing a large rectangular doorway into another location. He scanned the area making sure there were no witnesses to the abduction, only then signalling his men to take the prisoners through, before following them into the void, quickly disappearing from sight, leaving only a pool of blood behind.

TBC

Please review, and let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks so much for all the reviews and the story alerts/author alerts - they really mean a lot.

SINS OF THE FATHER

CHAPTER 2

A hand shoved him on the back and Rodney felt a chill, just for a second, before stumbling against something hard and unforgiving…rock maybe? He couldn't see through the sack, could scarcely breathe, but as rough arms guided him along seemingly endless damp corridors, he could feel the ground hard against his feet.

He tried to listen for signs of Sheppard, but the sack was thick and oppressive, giving nothing away, no clues to his condition, leaving him with only his imagination running rampant through his mind, thinking the worst case scenario…his best friend was dead. Part of him knew John had suffered worse injuries before and survived. But he had been bleeding heavily before he left him, and McKay knew even the simplest of wounds could be fatal if not treated properly.

Why did Marcen want them anyway? Rodney had met the intense scientist with the bright, red hair on a number of occasions, surprisingly impressed each time with his intellect and superior grasp of physics. In many ways he considered Marcen smarter than Hollena, but even during their short acquaintance the gawky, bespeckled young man displayed an arrogance untempered by reason. Showing Marcen showed reluctance, unwillingness even, to consider another person's point of view.

Even if Marcen didn't think he could solve the problem on his own, McKay could understand why he was taken, but Sheppard? Okay, although he hated to admit it John was a pretty smart guy for a flyboy, but he wasn't a scientist with his own ability, and no one here knew about his gift with Ancient tech...or did they? Still, if it was just a human activator they wanted, then he possessed the exact same gene, well, more or less, so why take John…it made no sense. In a warped way it made their capture look like one of those cheap supermarket specials that Jeanie like so much; BOGO - buy one, get one. Question was, which one of them was the item they absolutely had to have…and who was the freebie?

Suddenly, his minders pulled him to a stop, pushed him to the right, then pulled the bag roughly from his head. There were no bright lights to blind him, only a single rectangular light set deep into a black granite wall. After a moment his eyes came back into focus and with relief he saw Sheppard clearly still alive, his hazel eyes glazed over, lying limp between the arms of two large men. They exchanged a look, before he was spun round and his ropes sliced open by a knife.

For once he wasn't concerned about the sharp, stinging pains running through his fingers as his numb hands sprang back to life, too concerned about the blood soaked dressing and the pale, almost ghostly pallor on John's face.

"I really don't get it, for someone who wants the colonel alive, you're really going the wrong way about it. First you shoot him. and then you drag us along this cave, or whatever the hell this place is, for how long…an hour? He needed medical attention back on the planet you _moron, _and if he doesn't get it soon he'll die. Or are you no longer bothered about his welf..._**gah...**_"

His vision blurred as his head smacked onto the hard stone floor, just coming back in time to see a furious Marten glaring down at him, rubbing his fist, with Sheppard weakly straining to get free.

"Take care, Doctor. I will not have my actions challenged by anyone, not even the esteemed Rodney McKay…is that understood? This," Marcen waved his hand around the small cavern with two bunks set on either side, "is where you'll spend your time when I don't require your services. Oh, and just in case you haven't already guessed, you are now in a labyrinth of caves hidden deep beneath the ground. So don't expect to be rescued, as only those down here know these caves exist. This place remained dormant, a secret for many years, until I discovered it along with this device, which also provides the only exit to the facility."

While Marcen talked one of his men took a single shackle attached to a long chain anchored to the wall, then clicked it into place around Rodney's left ankle.

"Unfortunately, the problem with a facility such as this is the lack of doors. However, if the chain doesn't serve as enough of a deterrent, then I should warn you, there are miles of corridors down here, all of which look the same, one of which your withered body would eventually be found some time after you tried to escape. With regards to the colonel however, although I find your concern touching, you need not be alarmed. The wound was not fatal, just debilitating, and he will shortly receive the help he needs. In the meantime, Dr McKay, I will arrange for someone to bring you supplies to see to your own needs, because I really don't want you bleeding all over my floor."

_Great, _Rodney thought. _We're caught in a freakin' oubliette..._

ooooOoooo

Consciousness had returned to John just before he left the planet, but he'd kept the act going to find out what he could learn. He'd saw Rodney being restrained, knew how much his friend would hate the suffocating sack, and part of him felt guilty at worrying the scientist by making more of his wound than what it was. It still hurt like crazy through, the pain made even worse by being dragged none too gently, behind McKay through the gateway.

John couldn't think of anything else to call it. One minute he saw clear blue skies and lush forestation…the next a shimmering light refracting the scenery around it, giving way to a black rectangular hole like a door way, revealing a black stone corridor beyond.

Now though, it was no longer an act…he felt like crap. Each dragged step along the corridor was agony and he felt dizzy, the steady blood loss now making itself felt, and he could only guess what he must look like if Rodney's reaction was anything to go by.

And what did McKay get for his concern? A right hook. Once he was on his feet, on the other side of the gun, Marcen would pay for that. No one touched his people…**no one**. It was okay for him to complaint about McKay's constant wining, but nobody else had the right to criticize, let alone hit him. Bastard.

John had left Rodney nursing a split lip, lying sprawled on the floor, before begin dragged off yet again, down yet more identical corridors until he was nearly ready to pass out. One thing was certain, Marcen was right about this place. Even if they did manage to escape, they wouldn't be able to go anywhere without that bracelet. Which was something he and McKay would need to work on, once he could walk again.

His vision was fuzzy and he could barely see straight by the time he reached his destination, a room which could have either been a lab or a medical facility, or both. Once inside, _Tom_ and _Jerry…_he was too beat to think of anything original…tore off his tac vest, followed by his jacket, before throwing him onto a metallic table. When he spotted the leather restraints, he freaked out, tried desperately to resist, as the straps were pulled tight around his wrists, and left ankle. Resistance was futile however, as his strength was all but gone, only sheer adrenaline keeping him lucid, too scared to pass out, wondering what the hell was going to happen next...

The room was spinning, his heart hammering against his chest, as a short auburn haired woman walked into the room. She was no longer young, sixty maybe, but with bulging calf muscles an Olympic athlete would have been proud of. After coming over and raking him up and down like some freakin' specimen under the microscope, she turned to smile at Marcen when he entered the room.

"Finally, he is here. You have done well my, child."

"Excuse me, can I have your attention, Mrs Marcen or _Mommy_ or whatever the hell it is you're called…why exactly have my friend and I been taken? Last I heard we were helping you people, so, what's the deal here?"

Sheppard gave her a determined look, damned if this woman would see his fear.

"My name is Jusana Pryama, although who I am is really no concern of yours, Colonel Sheppard…if indeed that is your name. As to why you were abducted, well, that will soon be made clear. In the meantime however, you would be wise to do as you are told, along with Dr McKay, and co-operate fully with both myself and my son. Otherwise your situation will very quickly become a lot more unpleasant than it needs to be. Now, I need to attend to your wound, something I would prefer to do in silence. So, please, unless you wish a gag to be added to your other restraints, I would suggest you keep quiet. Is that understood?"

Their eyes locked, and Sheppard knew while restrained and wounded, he had lost this battle, but ignored her tight little smile, knowing the war was only just beginning...

ooooOoooo

"Sheppard…**John…**calm down, take it easy…it's Rodney."

"Wha?" John eyes flew open to see Rodney looking at him with concern, his fist holding a handful of McKay's shirt…

"Sorry. Did I hurt you…are you okay? He saw the deepening bruise on McKay's cheek, his swollen lip, and the dried blood around his collar.

"No, that wasn't you. I'm okay. Well, not really okay of course. Not good at all in fact, what with a suspected broken jaw and a probable concussion. But I suppose I'll be alright…it's you I'm worried about. They brought you back hours ago…I was starting to think you would never wake up."

"That long huh? I can't remember much after being restrained to the table, that and having a cosy chat with _Mama_ Marcen." John winced, as he shuffled in the bed he found himself in.

"They what? In the condition you were in! What they hell did they think you were going to do? Run away…or maybe pull a 'Bruce Lee'? And Marcen's mother is here…Why, what's her part in all this?"

Sheppard hissed as he struggled to rise, finally accepting Rodney's help to recline back against the pillows. "Not much. The usual stuff. Do what we're told or it's bad for our health etc…etc…Called herself Jusana Pryama, but for some strange reason she didn't believe who I was."

McKay tilted his head, puzzled. "Did you ask her what she meant?"

"No, Rodney I didn't. It wasn't that I didn't want to, but I was told to shut up or I'd be gagged. Considering I was all tied up at the time, I wasn't really in a position to argue. Anyway, I didn't have another opportunity as I pretty much passed out shortly after that."

There was silence for a moment as McKay went over to a wooden table, poured out a glass of water, then handed it to him. He grabbed it with shaky hands. It was still cold, and tasted wonderful on his parched, dry throat. Suddenly he noticed his watch was missing, Rodney's too. Probably taken while he was out, so he couldn't tell how long they'd been gone, but by the gnawing feeling in his gut, breakfast had obviously been a long time ago. John looked over at his friend's pale face with concern.

"Have you eaten yet, Rodney? You don't look great," He rasped.

"That's rich, coming from the guy who's as white as a sheet, lying flat out, with his leg bound up like an Egyptian mummy." Rodney began to smile. "You're a piece of work you know that, Sheppard? And to answer your question, yes I have eaten…if you could call it food. I even saved some for you…here."

John took the now rock hard sandwiches and sniffed. Whatever meat was in them had gone off, if it wasn't already before. He was hungry…not starving. His leg throbbed, his head ached and he felt like crap, so the last thing he needed was food poisoning. He pushed the plate away, disgusted.

"I'm so sorry, John…"

"So am I, Rodney. Sorry I got up this morning…sorry I didn't let Lorne take the mission, and well and truly sorry _and_ pissed that it's our team who keeps getting captured! But you…what the hell have you got to be sorry about?"

Rodney looked the picture of guilt. "I shouldn't have accepted the call from Marcen. It was always Hollena I dealt with…not him. You've got shot and could still be killed because of my carelessness…It's my fault."

"Rodney, none of this is your fault, so stop beating yourself up over it. How many times have you been here? Four? Six? By now you would have expected to trust these people, all of them, and they are scientists, not soldiers after all. You're not to blame for the actions of one geeky, psychotic, power hungry megalomaniac. It's just our usual bad luck, nothing more, anyway…who said anything about dying?"

John shivered, suddenly chilled to the bone, drained by the conversation and worn down by the constant ache in his leg.

"You okay, Sheppard? John? You, uh don't so good. Would you like me to call someone? Can I get you a blanket? Mine?"

He watched as McKay grabbed the blanket off his own bed and went to put it over him.

"Thanks, Rodney, I appreciate the thought, but its cold in here and you'll need that blanket for yourself. It's just been a rough day that's all. I'm beat up, fed up, but nothing a good nights rest and some food won't put right. Let's both get some shut eye and tomorrow we'll start making plans to get out of here." John forced a smile. "See, I'm feeling better already…"

John suppressed a groan, but a small whimper escaped his throat. He hoped Rodney wouldn't notice, but he must have dozed off, and the next thing he knew he was covered by the one and only blanket. John willed Rodney to take it back but his snores were already filling the room. Too beat to move, even if he could, John shut his eyes and figured sleeping wasn't a bad idea. They weren't going anywhere tonight, besides, he had a hunch he was going to need all his strength for whatever lay ahead.

ooooOoooo

TBC

So why do they want John? Some of the answers and of course more whump, will be revealed soon. In the meantime, please keep reviewing as it keeps me inspired to do the edits as quick as I can!


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks again for all the reviews and alerts, they really do give me the encouragement to keep editing faster!

SINS OF THE FATHER

CHAPTER 3

Special ops training covered everything a soldier in the field needed to know. How to handle every kind of weapon from a handgun to explosives. Unarmed combat, including all the martial arts…not his particular favourite. And of course, last but certainly not least, what to expect if you were unlucky enough to get captured behind enemy lines.

Of course, Sheppard had been that unlucky on a number of occasions. In his experience, if your combatant had signed up to the Geneva Convention, the conditions generally weren't too bad. A clean place to sleep, decent food, and at the end of the day your sorry ass was usually traded for one of theirs.

Most of the time though, he hadn't been that fortunate, and during those occasions the routine always went the same way. First the incarceration; typically in some rat infested hole, tied or chained to a wall, and left to rot for days on end. Then, once they had you softened up, or thought they did, came the interrogation. Now those never, ever varied.

They would ask simple questions at first, usually the same ones, and you responded with the set reply…name, rank, and serial number. However it was when they started asking the important stuff…Why are you here? Where is your base of operations? And you still gave the same answers that things started to get nasty. In a sick kinda way it always reminded him of a set menu in one of those cheap diners. First came a side order of fist, followed by a main course of cracked rib and later as dessert, when he really pissed them off…torture.

Shortly, after their capture here, their watches had been taken. It was a clever but unoriginal tactic, designed to disorientate them, as it was impossible to tell how much time had passed since they were taken. There was no daylight or nightfall down here to gauge the passage of time, only cold, dark rock walls pressing in around them, shutting them away from the rest of the world. But, guessing by how his leg felt now, John reckoned it must have been close on a couple of days since he got shot. His right leg still wouldn't tolerate any weight, but the sharp piercing pain of before was now more of an ache, and he felt he was finally starting to recover from the blood loss, feeling less tired than before, if not completely back to normal.

He had to admit though for a scientist, Marcen was a pretty gifted adversary. So far he had incapacitated his greatest threat…him. Coerced an exhausted McKay into spending long hours in the lab, separating them all day, leaving Rodney too beat to do anything other than sleep when he returned. Plus, he was also using the old familiar ploy of keeping his prisoners subdued by only providing two small meals a day. Constant hunger he could cope with, at least for a while, but McKay looked deathly pale and had been unusually quiet, a sure sight his hypoglycaemia was playing up. The Geneva Convention didn't apply in the Pegasus galaxy, but if it did, by his reckoning the geeky scientist had already broken most of the rules.

ooooOoooo

Twice now he'd been dragged off to Jusana to have his dressing changed. Each time as he was strapped to the table, he wondered what else was going to happen, but so far it was only his wound that was treated. The procedure always carried out in silence, with no acknowledgment that he, a human being was even present. Still, John knew that situation would most likely change, it was only a matter of when…

"Get up…"John rubbed his hand over his face to wipe the sleep from his eyes, and looked up to find Tom and Jerry standing by the side of his bed.

"Morning. Or is it afternoon?" _No answer…_

"Fine. Would someone care to help me up…unless you want to give me a cane, or some crutches maybe…no?"

Within seconds he was hauled out the bed by Tom, and shouldered out the door in between the two men towards the now familiar route to the infirmary. There was no specific reason to assume today's visit would be any different than before, but somehow he just had a feeling.

Once they entered the lab all John's fears were confirmed, as instead of being taken to the table, he was shoved onto a chair sitting on the opposite side of the room. It was made from the same kind of metal as the rest of the furniture, with a headrest, two straight arms and a raised platform for his feet, each section fitted with metal restraints. In many ways it reminded him of the dentists chair back in Atlantis. Granted, it was never his favourite place, but at least there he knew the worst case scenario would be a filling, or if he was really unlucky an extraction. Here through, judging by the treatment they'd received so far, he reckoned this time he wouldn't be that fortunate…

Just as the last metal band was clicked tightly into place, Marcen's mother appeared with a determined look in her eye and his heart sank, as he knew stage two, the interrogation, was about to begin.

"Good morning ma'am." John offered his best lop-sided grin, but was ignored as the woman unwrapped a thick material pouch, then began arranging syringes on the tray at the side of the chair. He watched anxiously, as she placed three different coloured phials, one beside each needle, before choosing the first and loading up it's contents. Only when she was finished with her task did she turn to address him.

"Today, Colonel Sheppard, I am going to ask you a series of questions. I will only ask them once, and if I don't like the answers, then you will definitely not like the consequences."

John tried desperately to control his breathing as his sleeve was rolled back, and hissed as the sharp prick of a needle was slid into the crook of his arm.

"This is just something to make you relax, help your mind break down any barriers you may have, and make you more receptive to my questions."

John was already starting to feel woozy. "You mean this is a truth serum…right?"

The woman considered his response for a moment then replied. "An interesting concept. Partly accurate I suppose, depending on the answers you give me…doesn't it?"

By now he could hardly see past the swirling rainbow obscuring his vision, and his brain felt fuzzy, heavy, he could barely think...

"Who are you _really_, Colonel Sheppard, and where do you come from?"

"Th…ts…two…questions…n…t…fair."

"You're hardly in a position to argue, so just answer." Jusana snapped, her impatience obvious.

John had been trained to resist all types of interrogation techniques, including the use of narcotics. So he wasn't about to tell Morticia he came from Earth, but he could answer the first question, however he had a feeling she wasn't going to like the answer.

"John She…ard…"

"**Liar! **I already know who you are...you're Brantum Forant, an Ancient who came to this planet many years ago. Why don't you just admit it?"

"Who?" John forced his head steady to look into stony eyes filled with hate.

"**Fine**. If you insist in playing games, then you will the pay the price." Sheppard watched helpless, as she picked up a second syringe and winced as it was forced into his arm.

"Ow! Th…t's…gon…a….bruise."

"Trust me when I tell you that pain will be nothing to what you will shortly experience. The serum I have just given you will make every nerve ending in your body feel like it's on fire. Very soon you will be in agony, with only I, having the means to make it stop. In the meantime however, you need to be taught a lesson for your insolence, so I will leave you to your pain but when I return, I will expect to hear the truth."

John knew he was totally screwed, as his heart was racing and he could already feel the heat rising in his body. Beads of sweat were rolling down his face, his back, soaking his shirt, making it stick to the hard unyielding surface underneath. Then suddenly, without warning, an explosion of pain erupted all over his body…White hot spikes of fire were burning through every muscle, setting every nerve ending on fire. He was groaning, shuddering with convulsions, reflectively jerking away…from the chair…himself. But there was no escape from the torment as each part of his body screamed, as on and on the rippling fire consumed him, relentless in its persecution, burning him alive. But he couldn't answer her questions, wouldn't give away his country, even if it meant losing his life.

"Are you ready to tell the truth now, Forant?" Jusana had returned, and her piercing blue eyes were searching his for answers.

Darkness loomed as his body buckled against the pain, and he glared up with as much defiance as he could muster. "I…to…d…u…I'm…_**Gah **_John…Shepp…d…_**Argh**_…fr…m…Atlan…is."

"**Damn** **you…**I've a good mind to let the serum take it's course and end your pathetic life, but you will tell me what I want to know, it's only a matter of time."

John felt the sting of a needle one more time, and gradually felt the pain start to ease, just as the sadistic female grabbed his jaw forcing him to stare into her pinched, lined face distorted with rage.

"I should have realised a soldier like you is more used to traditional interrogation techniques, so I will be happy to oblige. Luthame," She turned to the guard. "Take Colonel Sheppard to the old lab, strip him, then secure him against the wall. You may release him twice a day to attend to his personal needs, and give him a little water, but nothing to eat for forty-eight hours…is that clear?"

As she went to leave, she turned to glare at John one more time. "Right now, _Colonel_ _Sheppard, _I have other pressing matters I need to attend to, so I will leave you in the care of these men. For your sake, I hope you use this time wisely to consider your future responses or I won't be as lenient the next time we meet."

ooooOoooo

The glass slid from his grasp, smashed against the unforgiving floor, and shattered into a million tiny pieces around his feet. Rodney watched it fall as if in slow motion, helpless, unable to stop shaking, his body out of control…unaware of where he was, or what he was supposed to be doing.

He dragged his eyes from his trembling hands to catch Marcen starting at him, but instead of a rebuke, the young scientist looked concerned.

"Are you alright, Dr McKay?"

"_What? _No…no I'm not." McKay felt himself start to sway, and steadied himself on the metal bench.

"Sit down, Doctor" Marcen rushed over, grabbed his arm and helped Rodney into a chair.

"You're unwell, Doctor. Why didn't you say something?"

"I have hypoglycaemia…low blood sugar. It's controllable if I eat regularly, but since you took us…"

Marcen went over to the guard by the door, but Rodney could barely focus, let alone hear what was said.

"You have my apologies. The meagre portions you were given were designed more to control colonel Sheppard than yourself. He is a dangerous man even with the injury, and I needed to keep him weak and compliant, although it was never my intention to endanger your health. Please, sit here for a moment while my man gets you something to eat. Once you are feeling a little better, you may return to your room and rest. The work here is important, Dr McKay, but so is your contribution. I have tremendous respect for you, Doctor, despite the manner in which you have been treated thus far, I just wanted you to know that."

Rodney was bemused, as the man who had punched him only days before now looked anxious, even keeping watch, as he ate the simple meal of cold slices and soft white bread. For some strange reason the way Marcen was staring at him, his intense worried look, reminded him of the one his grandmother used to give him when he stayed at her house, each day after school.

Grandma McKay was a stern old bird, who had loved them dearly. He remembered with affection how he would sit by Jeannie at the kitchen table, drinking ice old milk and eating cookies…chocolate chip...while she lectured them on the importance of working hard and good table manners. Two of them in particular he remembered off by heart…never gulp down your food, and never, ever, guzzle your drink too fast. Rodney suppressed a smile, knowing that dear old lady would be spinning in her grave if she saw him now; ramming the sandwich down the back of his throat, and knocking back a full glass of milk in one go. When the plate was empty his stomach felt if not exactly full, then at least no longer empty, and the trembling from before had finally stopped, leaving him feeling completely drained.

Marcen waved off the guard, keeping a firm hold of his arm as he rose a little unsteadily to his feet, and kept it there until they reached the cell. Then, after a slight hesitation, almost with reluctance, the young scientist fitted the shackle back around his ankle. It was only when he sat down on the side of the bed, Rodney realised John was missing.

"Where's Sheppard?"

"He refused to answer my mother's questions so he is being punished."

"**Punished**!" Rodney jumped up, then felt woozy and collapsed back onto the bed. "What questions? Isn't that why you took me? What answers can Sheppard possibly give you that I can't?"

The young man sat down on the bed opposite, Sheppard's bed, and spoke calmly.

"What do you know about colonel Sheppard?" He saw Rodney about to speak. "I mean before he came to Atlantis."

McKay could feel himself starting to shake again, but not from low blood sugar.

"I know he was a pilot, but not much else…John's a private person, he doesn't talk much about his past, but he's a good man, brave, fearless even. He's saved my life many times."

"I need to show you something, Doctor; I'll be back in a minute."

McKay looked over at the empty bed and started to panic. Why had they wanted Sheppard, and what were they doing to him right now? He heard a noise and realised Marcen was back in the room.

"Here…who does that remind you of?" Marcen handed over a faded picture of a lean, dark haired, middle aged man wearing a white tunic standing in the lab where he'd just been working. It could have been anyone, but the spiky hair was unmistakable as was the all too familiar pair of hazel eyes…

ooooOoooo

TBC

Hope you liked! And please review to let me know what you thought, your encouragement really does keep me working faster.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks again for all the reviews, I'm so pleased that you're enjoying the story and they do inspire me to edit faster!

SINS OF THE FATHER

CHAPTER 4

Sleep wouldn't come despite his exhaustion, as Rodney couldn't get the picture of John, no…Brantum Forant out of his mind.

He'd never met any of Sheppard's relatives, but had seen a picture of John's dad, Patrick, in the business section of a newspaper someone brought back from vacation. To his mind, Sheppard didn't look much like his old man; Patrick Sheppard appeared to be fuller faced, stocky even, so he guessed John must have taken his chiselled jaw and hazel eyes off his mom. John was a real private guy about his family, but there was a framed picture of a pretty woman, hidden almost from sight, behind the mass of paperwork strewn all over his desk. However, despite the fact they were friends, he still didn't feel comfortable prying into his past, so he'd never asked who it was.

Still, after what Marcen had told him, his head was buzzing. Up until now, all of the evidence they'd discovered showed the Ancients left this galaxy 10,000 years ago. Except if what Marcen said was true, Brantum Forant appeared to have been an Ancient who carried out genetic experiments on the people who lived on the planet, killing hundreds, just over fifty years ago. It was hard to believe, but was it possible this man could still be alive somewhere, possibly living on Earth? If so, with Atlantis under water during all of that time, how could he have got there, and if he had, could Forant be John's relation…his father maybe?

Even as the notion entered his head, Rodney couldn't believe it. Neither could he believe Marcen's mother abducted John just to exact revenge. He could understand her anger against Forant, her need for retribution against the evil man who had killed so many. But to persecute Sheppard just because he bore a strong resemblance to the serial killer, in his mind was just plain nuts.

His head was pounding. What the hell was he going to do? Sheppard couldn't answer any of her questions, not those ones at any rate, and he knew John would rather die than tell her he came from Earth. In any case, Sheppard wouldn't have a clue what she was talking about, unless of course he'd been a really, _really_ good actor all these years, concealing the fact his daddy was an honest to goodness, living, breathing Ancient.

Everyone on base knew Sheppard possessed the strongest natural gene around, was this why? Although in the grand scheme of things as far as Rodney was concerned it still didn't matter. John Sheppard was his friend, and if that guy _was_ his dad, Sheppard still shouldn't have to pay for the atrocities Forant carried out.

Rodney felt sick at the thought of what this man, a supposed hero to the community had done. Brantum Forant arrived in Tynos nearly sixty years ago, appearing out of thin air in a flying craft, declaring the planet as his new home. Soon after, he had quickly became the saviour of the people, using technology never seen or heard of before, to help the simple farming community build the impressive structures still standing in the city.

Next, Forant taught them how to develop their resources and within a few short years, Tynos changed from being a backward agricultural planet into an industrial power. Factories sprang up, which enabled them to produce their own power, in addition to manufacturing all types of goods for export. Their society blossomed, people became prosperous for the first time in their history, so therefore when Brantum asked for volunteers to help him develop a genetic weapon against the Wraith, the people had been more than happy to oblige.

In the beginning, everything had been fine. People came and went through his lab but always came home, seemly unaffected by their experience. Gradually though, reports of missing persons made their way to the militia. First it was the poor, those who lived rough, the people nobody missed. Shortly afterwards, concerned relatives began to report loved ones who'd disappeared, many of those connected with the experiments, and several who weren't. Then finally, just as the militia called for a full investigation, the normally extrovert scientist vanished, as if into thin air.

No one suspected any wrong doing at first. His grateful followers just confused and sorry he had left so suddenly without saying a word…until the first body was found. A young militia woman, who had been desperately searching for her missing brother went looking deep into the wilderness on the outskirts of town. There, hidden under the tall oak trees she discovered hundreds of shallow graves, each filled with grotesque creatures, each with a bullet through it's skull, one of whom was wearing a pendant she recognised…

A subsequent search of his lab produced more questions than answers, with no clue as to why the bodies were more beast than man. Everything gone apart from some papers, a few metal gadgets, and a silver revolver. Worse still, despite carrying out numerous searches since, most of the missing were never found. It wasn't until Marcen stumbled upon the bracelet, which in turn provided access to this underground facility; their bodies were eventually discovered lying scatted amongst the endless tunnels.

McKay guessed Forant had been trying to develop a retrovirus, probably not dissimilar to the one which almost turned Sheppard into a bug. Nevertheless, one thing was clear. Rodney now realised there was no way for Atlantis to find them. Their transponders were useless this far underground and even if they weren't, the metallic properties of the rock would have blocked their signal anyway. Furthermore, no one but Marcen and his people knew this place even existed. Therefore, it was now up to him, Rodney McKay, to save Sheppard and get them both out of here while John was still alive. Besides, it was his turn…

ooooOoooo

Sheppard couldn't remember being brought into the lab or being stripped to his boxers. Only regaining awareness as he was slammed against the sharp rock wall, too groggy to resist as thick metal bands were secured around his neck, chest, wrists, upper arms, thighs and ankles.

"Sheppard. If that's what your name is, do you want a drink?"

John glared straight into his eyes, there wasn't anywhere else he could look, as his neck was locked into place so he could only see straight ahead.

"Last chance…and don't bother giving me _that_ look. If you refuse it now, they'll be nothing more until tomorrow. So, take it or leave it, it's up to you."

He really wanted to tell him where to shove it, but knew he couldn't afford the price of pride right now. Besides, he could live without food for a few days, but water…not so much.

It was only a drop, and he wanted the ocean. His throat was still parched, but even as the cup was removed from his lips, he wondered if it had been too much. Nausea washed through him. Probably a result of the drugs, the pain, or the fact he hadn't eaten in a while, except throwing up wasn't an option aware in this position, he would choke on his own vomit.

Along with the slamming of the door came the darkness. John initially was surprised there was a door. Since he'd been here he hadn't seen any, just gaps in the rock so why was there one here? He didn't need to be told everyone was gone, for a presence would need a light and there was none. Only inky blackness…nothing for him to see…not even the rock walls surrounding him.

He shivered, the freezing cold seeping into his bones, spiking the lingering ache which still wouldn't quit. Sheppard had been in worse prisons, but not many. Restraints were nothing new to him. Manacles, rope, he'd been secured by all types over the years, but these, they were something else, nothing would move. John couldn't see the rigid bands but felt them tight against his body, keeping his head straight, his torso erect and his arms clamped high above his head. Up until now, they had been careful of his leg, but now his legs were firmly clamped against the wall, the sharp edge of the metal band was rubbing painfully against his wound.

Over the years, he'd been beaten up a few times, quite a few. Also drugged, electrocuted, burned and even whipped a couple of times. They all hurt like hell, some more than others, but usually the sadistic bastards who carried out the torture were men…until now.

He had to hand it to her. The evil bitch possessed a natural talent for inflicting pain, plus a surprising knack at sussing out a guys weakness. Right from the start she'd kept him securely restrained, even when he was wounded unable to pose any kind of threat. He thought he'd managed to conceal his panic from her when he was secured to the table, as being restrained, especially that level of confinement, was the only thing which really freaked him out.

John knew his weakness, it was the whole loss of control thing he'd had since a kid. It first started when his dad locked him in his room. The frustration, fear of being trapped, led him to become quite the escape artist, although it did cost him a broken leg falling from his second story bedroom window. Even so, being free again had been worth it. To this day, although no one liked being in pain, he could usually tolerate whatever was thrown at him. But being unable to fight or flee, unable even to move…always scared him shitless. How she knew, he couldn't guess, unless of course this was the way she treated all her enemies. Nevertheless he was going to be in this position, clamped to the wall for quite a while, so he didn't have any other choice other than to suck it up.

ooooOoooo

After a while, John was no longer sure of the passage of time. He couldn't even be sure if he was awake or asleep anymore. All he knew was in his thoughts, his dreams, he was back in Atlantis. It was warm there, and he was heading down to the canteen to meet his friends, ease the gnawing hunger tearing a hole in his belly. Later, satisfied, he was piloting the jumper, flying high above the city, soaring though the clouds into the deep blue sky…happy, laughing with his friends as they snarked with each other in the background.

Suddenly, a harsh dry cough sent his muscles into spasms and Atlantis was gone, disappeared, and his dreams were shattered. He was still there, alone in the dark, the tight oppressive bands relentlessly locking him in place, unable to escape the razor sharp rock digging into his flesh. Except now, that pain, even the ache in his leg was gone. His body was numb and he could feel nothing…not even the beat of his heart.

How long had he been here? Was Rodney even still alive? Anxiety threatened to engulf him as he worried about his friend, angered at their situation, frustration at being unable to escape, to rescue McKay, tearing him apart.

His heart started to race, so it was still there then, and he forced his fingers, toes to move, anything to prove his body still worked… he even had a body…he was still alive. Then a crack of light blinded him as the door creaked opened and he saw the blurred outline of a man come towards him.

"It's time for a comfort break, Sheppard, Jusana's orders. Though as far as I'm concerned you can rot. I'm going to release you from your restraints and give you ten minutes, but don't try anything funny or I'll shoot…understand?

Funny? It was freaking hilarious this guy thought he was capable of moving, let alone escaping. With the bands removed John fell to the ground, but he couldn't feel anything, nothing worked. Then the man grabbed him, and dragged his unco-operative body towards a bucket at the corner, but all he could do was lie there, groaning, when suddenly sharp spikes of pain ripped through him, as numb limbs spring back to life.

He was shaking uncontrollably, barely able to do what was required, and he desperately wanted to know how long he'd been there, strapped to the wall. Except he wouldn't give them the satisfaction, wasn't going to let them know how much he hated this, them. Even when the guard went to stead the cup, unsteady in his trembling hands, he turned away, a small act of defiance to send the message…I'm not beaten yet.

"Who do you think you are, to dare turn your back on me?"

John could hardly move, but he struggled round to glare at the big angry man standing over him. "I'm an innocent man, being treated like scum. So what the hell does that make you…_**Argh."**_

The sharp bite of a leather switch tore into his shoulder, sending him sprawling, as it slashed into his tender flesh again and again. Fiery pain exploded over his back, his chest, his arms, the persecution constant and relentless, as he cowered on the floor unable to escape. Blood trails snaked from his skin soaking his boxers, pooling round his body, leaving him wet, sticky, the taste of metal in the air. Then he saw the guard smiling, relishing his abuse so he closed his eyes, choked back a cry and waited for his misery to end. Suddenly, just as quickly as the vicious assault started it finished, leaving him shuddering, groaning in pain.

"To answer your question, Sheppard, my name is Luthame, the guard in charge of your _care_. In future you will treat me with respect, and if you ever look at me that way again, I will kill you," John yelped as a swift kick to the ribs, forced him on his back as a large boot pressed down upon his chest. "That's for Sholana Gratum."

He was in agony as the guard hauled him up, and half carried half dragged him back to his prison. Barely conscious as Luthame threw him hard against the wall, before securing the tight unyielding bands back into place. John swore through gritted teeth as his muscles protesting against their rigid stance. His body aching as the sharp metal bands pressed into his newly ripped flesh and cracked ribs, as the sharp pain in his chest was unmistakable; he'd been down that road too many times before. John saw the guard staring at him, watching for a reaction, but he made himself look straight ahead, ignoring the man who committed this atrocity until he heard the door slam once more, only then allowing hot tears of pain and frustration to fall down his face.

He started to shiver uncontrollably, but this time he welcomed the cold. Knowing, when the shaking stopped, blessed numbness would follow killing his pain. Part of him realised that probably wasn't a good thing, and he couldn't survive like this for long. Still, John knew he still hadn't told her what she wanted to know so he clung to the hope, Jusana wouldn't let him die…at least not yet.

Cold addled the brain, made it sluggish, but he made himself remember the name…Brantum Forant. Who the hell was this guy anyway, and why did she think _he_ was him? Nothing about this abduction made sense…nothing. For the first time in a long while John felt a strong sense of foreboding. He was used to being beaten, tortured for information. But even if he was able or willing to answer her questions, first of all he needed to know the answers and for once in his life he just hadn't a clue…

ooooOoooo

TBC

Well, so what do you guy's think? Is it a case of mistaken identity or is there something to Jusana's claims? - Hope you liked, and please review.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for the reviews and the alerts, I really appreciate it!

SINS OF THE FATHER

CHAPTER 5

Jusana had only been fifteen, a cadet in the militia, when she discovered the mutilated remains of her beloved brother Colaine. Gone was the handsome auburn haired youth who'd loved life. Instead, in his stead was a hideous scaled creature more beast than man, with only the familiar pendant given by her, a gift for his seventeenth birthday, as evidence it was him lying dead, discarded amongst the pile of decaying bodies hidden in the forest.

Since that day, nothing in her life made sense. So Jusana went through the motions and did what people expected of her. She pursued a career, rising quickly through the ranks, eventually getting married to the first man who asked. Children, though, had never been part of her plan. For years hints were made and pressures applied by both families, but she ignored them all, and it was only when her marriage started to fall apart that she finally relented. Failure was something she hated, despised even, not just in others, but especially in herself. Thus she only submitted to his request for a child, and allowed one final act of intimacy to conceive at the age of forty-two.

After Marcen was born, for a while she had been surprisingly happy. Each time she'd held her precious son in her arms, Jusana felt a love so intense, so all consuming, she scarcely recognised herself and for a short while, even managed to forget the pain. However the memories soon flooded back, little by little invading her dreams, then her waking hours too. The image of her brother half man, half beast, calling out to her for help…revenge.

In the beginning she tried to shut them out, knew nothing could ever bring Colaine back, except they wouldn't be denied. Their persistence eventually grew into an obsession, which ultimately drove her husband away, destroyed her career until there was no one, nothing, but Marcen left. So she packed up and left the city behind and returned to the only place where she'd ever truly felt accepted, the village where she grew up.

Despite having lived in the city for most of her adult life, Jusana came from a rural village, a child born to farmers who lived a simple existance, with a strong, rigid moral code. She believed in the old ways, and was frustrated by the liberal attitudes tolerated in modern life showing a leniency, compassion even, towards criminals. A limb for a limb, an eye for an eye, and a life for a life. That was the way of her village, and in Jusana's view the way all crimes should be judged. Thus, she believed if the perpetrator was no longer around to make amends for his crimes, then the sins of the father became the sins of the son…

She was positive Sheppard was lying, and that he was really Forant under a different guise, or at least a close relative, perhaps even his son. Yet, whether or not John Sheppard was the man guilty of killing her brother didn't matter. If it wasn't him then it must be his father, as his resemblance to Forant could brook no other argument. But, if he refused to give up the man responsible, his father, then it would be him, the son, who would suffer. For someone must pay the price for the atrocities carried out against her people…especially Colaine.

"Mistress. There is something wrong with the prisoner, I can't get him to wake up."

Jusana threw down her pen, and glared at Luthame who was standing looking sheepish by the door. "When did you last see him…was he lucid then?"

"He was fine last night…"

"Last night! It's now the middle of the afternoon. You **fool**. Can't I leave you a simple task of caring for a prisoner without you killing him?" Jusana saw the man back away in fear. "Did you release him from his restraints as I told you, give him a blanket? The broth I ordered?"

"No…I wanted to make him suffer, just a little longer, for his stubbornness to you, Mistress and his disrespect to me."

"_What_…You do realise there is a difference between punishing a man and killing him?"

Jusana got up, pushed him aside, and walked into the corridor barely looking at the man beside her. "If he dies, Luthame, you do know it is you who will take his place…"

Luthame stammered. "He's alive…I'm sure of it. It's dark in there, but I'm positive he's still breathing."

In the gloom of the cavernous space, Jusana saw Sheppard, still anchored by the metallic bands, held rigidly against the wall. He wasn't moving, but then she wouldn't have expected him to. However his ghostly pallor, a startling contrast against the dark, rock wall made her doubt he was still alive. Also his body was covered with deep lacerations, a punishment she hadn't authorised.

Without looking at the two guards standing nearby, she put out her hand and snapped her fingers impatiently. "Keys…"

When Sheppard's head fell forward she searched for a pulse. At first she struggled, but was eventually relieved to feel a faint flicker beneath her fingertips.

"You. What's your name?" Jusana pointed a finger to the new guard, someone Marcen recently hired.

"Eduande, Ma'am."

"Go quickly and bring my medical kit, and blankets. As many as you can."

Even as the young man rushed out the room, she unlocked each of the restraints until Sheppard slumped against her, and despite his greater weight, slowly eased him onto the ground. Luthame started towards her, but she stopped him with a look, enraged that the man who she'd spent so many years trying to find, could soon be dead.

With hesitation, Luthame moved forward. "I am so sorry for disobeying your orders, Mistress. Please forgive me. Tell me, what can I do to help?"

"By the looks of things, Luthame I think you've done quite enough. But there is one thing you can do for me."

"Name it, Mistress…anything you want."

Jusana turned to give him a grim smile. "Take off your clothes…"

ooooOoooo

It was shortly after Rodney's near collapse that the relationship changed between the brilliant wormhole physicist and the man who'd made him his prisoner.

Since that day, Marcen always made sure to have plenty of snacks available to prevent a recurrence of McKay's hypoglycaemia, but more than that, the young scientist became much more pleasant, more amenable to any suggestions Rodney had to offer. Except for one, as he still refused to allow him close enough to examine the bracelet.

Ever since finding the cell empty and learning about Sheppard's doppelganger, he was worried sick over John's continued absence. He had racked his brains trying to figure out a plan which would get them both out of here, while there was still something of Sheppard left to rescue. Except every single scenario revolved around obtaining access to the bracelet, because without it, they were going precisely nowhere. So, with hostilities between him and Marcen a thing of the past, McKay felt the time was right to ask the six million dollar question…what was the flaw that killed the technician?

"Marcen. I've checked and re-checked the schematics of the bracelet, and obviously we know it is a teleport device of some type, however from what you've told me it has a limited range. Honestly, from what I've been able to tell from these diagrams, I can't understand why. Is that the flaw you mentioned?"

Rodney watched Marcen look uncertain, as if trying to decide whether or not to tell him the truth, before the young man finally spoke. "I'm pleased to hear your findings coincide with mine, Dr McKay, as I suspected as much myself. Now perhaps we can find a way to extend the range. But in answer to your question, no, that wasn't the flaw."

Marcen shuffled some papers before starting to speak. "After I found the bracelet in the lab I realised the potential of the device, except much to my disappointment Hollena asked Rathama, one of the more senior technicians to test it instead of me. However, once he put it on, the bracelet moulded to his wrist and wouldn't come off. It was a concern of course, but we were confident we would be able to find a solution, plus it didn't seem to be doing him any harm…at least not at first. Although after a couple of months it became clear to me Rathama didn't have the ability to effectively control the device, only having been able to travel a few feet, also it was around that time he discovered the first blotches around his wrist. Our worst fears were soon confirmed when he developed a mass of festering sores, then, soon afterwards a high fever. Within weeks, the sickness reached his brain and he became completely disorientated, unable to recognise his friends, or even his family. The infirmary had never seen anything like it but did everything they could, even amputated his arm just above his elbow. Unfortunately though, nothing they tried worked, and he died shortly afterwards, a horrible agonising death."

"_Wha…_you mean to say you can't get that thing off? Rodney was shocked. "Are you okay, do you have any of the sympt…" Marcen rolled up his sleeve to show him a small white mark just showing below where the bracelet sat on his wrist. "But why, Marcen? I don't understand. Why would you take a risk with your life like that?"

"Because, Doctor, I was foolish enough to think I could control the bracelet, solve the problem on my own and at the time I even thought the risk was worth it. If I could control it, harness it's powers, duplicate them even, what a discovery it would be for my people. In the beginning I thought I had suceeded. First I was able to teleport back to Forant's old lab, then from there I discovered the link to these caves, but since then...nothing. My mother may hate Brantum Forant, but I cannot deny what his contributions to technology, industry did for this planet. After he went, all Tynos was left with were some pretty buildings to remind us of what might have been. But those auspicious beginnings were halted in their tracks, as he'd never allowed anyone close enough to learn from him, to carry on the work he'd started. Some progress was eventually made of course, but it took us decades to do what he could have done in weeks, months, and we are still far behind from where we should be. Except now of course, everything I have discovered about the bracelet will be worthless, unless I manage to remove it. So please, Dr McKay I'm asking for your help. Not just for the sake of Tynos, but for me. Or I will surely die because of my arrogance."

Rodney shook his head slowly. "I don't know what to say, Marcen. I only wish you'd told me when we first met. If it is a form of radiation sickness as I suspect, even if I do manage to remove the bracelet, I'm a scientist, not a doctor. The best chance you have, the only one, it to return with us to Atlantis. They have a wonderful medical facility with the best doctors, one in particular who may be able to help you, or at least prolong your life long enough to give me a chance to remove the bracelet. What about your mother, does she know?"

"Does she know what?" Jusana was standing at the opening of the lab, her eyes filled with suspicion.

"Of course my mother knows my plans for the bracelet, Dr McKay." Rodney saw Marcen shoot him a warning look, before turning to smile at his mother.

"What a pleasant surprise, Mother. Have you come up to see how our research is going?"

"No. One of the guards took Sheppard's punishment a bit too far, and I am going to need _him_."

"What's happened? What the hell have you done to him?" Rodney went to confront the she-devil who'd obviously hurt his friend, but Marcen grabbed his arm, holding him back.

"It's just as well this man is valuable to you, Marcen, or I would take great pleasure punishing him for that outburst. Anyway…little man. You're friend is back in the cell and I don't have time to take care of him. That's going to be your job."

"Mother, isn't there anyone else? Dr McKay and I were just starting to make progress."

Jusana shook her head. "I'm sorry, my child. But the good doctor shouldn't be away for too long. Colonel Sheppard will either survive the night, or he won't. Whatever happens, Doctor McKay should be able to return to the lab tomorrow."

McKay marched up and glared into Jusana's stony eyes. "Well, I better go right now then, hadn't I?**"**

Rodney glanced over to Marcen. "Sorry, Marcen. As much as I would like to help you with your…_research_, I should tell you if Sheppard dies, you may as well kill me too, because with him gone, you'll get no further help from me."

ooooOoooo

John looked dead. In fact Rodney was pretty sure he had seen corpses with more colour. His dark hair lay flat against his pale waxy skin, the only thing visible above the mound of blankets obscuring his body. When he went to check for a pulse, he sighed with relief. It was weak and thready, but at least John was still alive, even if freezing cold. Then he saw the dark livid bruises on his neck and chest, plus the deep ragged cuts covering his body.

"At risk of repeating myself, what did you do to him? How long has he been like this?"

"None of your concern…_Doctor_. Now, I would suggest if you are serious about saving your friend's life that you start taking care of him."

"And how exactly am I supposed to do that? Sheppard's hypothermic. He needs a medical doctor, so why aren't you doing something?"

Jusana's cold hard eyes caught Rodney's. "I am not a medical doctor either, Doctor McKay, just a skilled army medic with limited resources at my disposal. Now I am leaving, as I have other business to attend to, so do what you can for him. If Sheppard lives through the night, just ask the guard at the door for whatever you need. I only intend to return if he survives, and when he is ready to resume his interrogation."

"You're all heart, you know that…" Rodney shouted at the retreating figure.

With shaking hands he pushed the blankets closer to Sheppard's ice cold skin, but deep down he knew they alone wouldn't be enough. He then dared a quick look at the cuts, but discovered they'd been cleaned, so at least she'd done something.

Panic was starting to set in when Carson's first aid lessons came flooding back. Body heat. That was the best way of dealing with someone in John's condition. Trouble was, if there was anyone who hated physical contact worse than him, it was Sheppard, but needs must…

Quickly grabbing the cover off his own bunk, he took off his boots then got into bed beside him. Two things struck him at once. First John wasn't just cold, he was positively baltic. Second, he was shocked at the extent of the horrendous bruises clearly visible on his arms, legs and wrists. Thick indentations, about three inches wide could clearly be seen, and from all appearances it was evident Sheppard had been rigidly restrained in the same position for days, maybe even since the last time he'd seen him.

Rodney shivered as he pulled his friend in close, feeling the chill seep from John's icy skin right through the very clothes he was wearing. As he went to rub his arms, he stopped himself just in time, suddenly realising that action could force cold blood from John's extremities into his heart, which could wind up killing him. Just then, he felt him flinch, which was at least a response of sorts, but not the one he wanted. If only John would wake up, let him know he was going to be okay, even if it was just to tell him to back off…

ooooOoooo

TBC

Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review. Your comments mean a lot, and they give me the motivation to keep writing.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for the reviews and the alerts, I really appreciate them.

SINS OF THE FATHER

CHAPTER 6

He couldn't remember getting sick, but why else would mom be in his bed? John snuggled in closer relishing the heat of her breath against his neck, but he didn't feel warm, in fact he was cold…freezing, and his entire body was really, really sore.

His chest felt like a weight was pressed against it, his throat rough and painful. What he really wanted was a warm glass of Martha's lemonade. She always made it especially for him when he was ill, but he didn't want to move. Each movement was agony, sharp spikes of pain shooting through his back, neck, hell all of him, and it just felt good lying there nice and still, listening as she snored…

"R…ny?"

John tried to speak, but started coughing, then groaned as he reawakened all the pains in his body.

"Sheppard, would you stop **fidgeting**. It took me long enough to get to sleep. Wait…you're **awake**? You're okay? Well not okay, obviously…oh, thank goodness. When they brought you back I _thought_…well you know."

He didn't want to move as even the smallest motion hurt, but he felt rather than saw Rodney leave the bed. A few moments later, he felt a firm arm go behind his neck and gently lay him onto his back, then he saw his friend's concerned face come into view as he put a glass of water to his lips.

"Not too much, John. I'd guess by the way your bony ass has been sticking into me all night you haven't eaten for quite a while, and I don't want you being sick." His eyes felt dry and gritty but Rodney's, searching his, just looked relieved.

"Thanks…"

"It was only a glass of water, Sheppard." McKay put the glass down, and pushed the covers firmly up around John's neck.

"For saving my life…"

"Oh...You'd have done the same for me."

"I know, but you did it all the same. Still, I think we should keep what happened just between ourselves, don't you?" John saw Rodney's face flush with embarrassment.

"I don't have a problem with that, although the memory of those boxers has scarred me for life. Really, Sheppard, 'James Bond – Licensed to thrill.' are you serious? Anyway, Lucretia? Jusana? Whatever the hell she's called told me if…when you woke up to get you what every you need. So I'm guessing something to eat?"

John nodded, and watched McKay walk over to the opening and say something to the guard. The next he knew he was awoken by voices, as the young man handed something on a tray to Rodney...it smelt good.

McKay came and sat on the edge of the bed. "Food first, then you can go back to sleep. Do you need any help?"

After spending so much time restrained, John was determined to get some control back of his body. However when he tried to sit up, his aching arms refused to support him, and he yelped, as his back went into spasms.

McKay shook his head. "I'll take that as a _yes _you idiot. Why didn't you say you were in that much pain? How long did the bitch keep you chained up for anyway?"

John spluttered on a mouthful of broth. He really hated being spoon-fed, although at the moment he had no choice. It was almost as if he was still restrained, as his arms, legs, in fact his whole body was so sore he could hardly move.

"Dunno. When I couldn't answer her questions, she pumped me full of drugs…really painful shit. Then, when I still wouldn't talk, because I didn't know the answers, she told me I would be strapped to a wall with only comfort breaks and no food for two days. How long was I gone?"

McKay's eyes flashed with anger. "Well I spent three, nearly four sessions in the lab since you were gone…so I'm guessing close to four days. No wonder you can't move. Have you seen the state of your body?"

"My neck was anchored to the wall for almost all of that time, and I was left in the dark, so the answer to that question would be no. But if it's any consolation I hurt like hell, so I have a pretty good idea where the cuts and bruises are."

He saw McKay quickly look away, visably upset. Damn. Him and his big mouth. He really hadn't meant to hurt his feelings. Their abduction, Rodney being forced to work till he was fit to drop, him nearly dying _again_ for no good reason, was all just one big freaking mess. "I'm sorry, Rodney. I didn't mean to have a go at you. I'm just sore, tired, and I know this isn't over, not by a long way. Friends?"

"Only you would have to ask that. Go to sleep, Sheppard you look like crap. When you wake up…"

McKay turned around, just for a second to put the half empty bowl on the table, but when he looked back, Sheppard was fast asleep.

"Sleep tight, John, you need all the rest you can get. When you wake up, I have quite a story to tell you…"

ooooOoooo

Most of the next couple of days John spent sleeping, eating whatever was handed to him, and eventually managed to sit up on his own without screaming the house down. Okay, so maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but being kept restrained for all that time had definitely done a number on his back and neck. On the plus side though, his leg was feeling better, and with McKay's help, he'd finally been able to stand on both feet, at least for a couple of minutes.

McKay had also brought him up to speed as to why Jusana was so pissed at him. For a while he just stared at the photo…speechless. John couldn't deny the guy looked like him, but as for being his dad? Patrick Sheppard would never win any father of the year awards, but he definitely _was_ his dad, and although the old man was an asshole, at least he wasn't a megalomaniac serial killer like Forant.

Question was, what the hell were they going to do? McKay told him Marcen had refused his offer of help from Atlantis, but the young moron was still forcing Rodney to try and find a way of removing the bracelet here. In the meantime no bracelet meant no escape. And, no escape meant he would still be here when the psycho bitch from hell paid another visit, which knowing his luck, would probably be _very_ soon.

ooooOoooo

Standing gingerly with two hands against the wall for support, John flexed each of his muscles in turn, wincing as the barely healed lacerations caught against the rough material of his borrowed cotton tunic. Even turning his neck slowly from side to side made him flinch, but he was relieved that his range of motion was nearly back to normal, and at least the painful muscle spasms had stopped.

"Good evening, Colonel Sheppard. How are you feeling today?"

Crap…John recognised the voice and his heart sank, knowing _break_ time was over. "Still in pain, you'll be glad to hear."

He took his hands off the wall and turned around to face her, disconcerted to see her smiling.

"I really must apologise for my guard. It was never my intention to leave you restrained for that length of time, nor had I authorised him to beat you. Your punishment was deserved certainly, however he took it upon himself to disobey my instructions, so for his lapse in judgement, he too has been punished. I am happy to see you are looking better though and back on your feet, although still favouring your leg. Would you like me to check your wound?"

So, there it was. He'd been expecting it. Good cop, bad cop…the carrot and the stick. What every the hell you called it the ploy was always the same. Show your prisoner it doesn't have to be all hardship and pain. If you just do what we want, tell us want we want etc, we can be reasonable…

"The legs healing fine…thank you." John kept his eyes fixed upon her face, waiting for her next move, like some sick, twisted game of chess.

Her mouth twitched. Sheppard reckoned making that smile must really be hurting, then he saw her jaw set into a firm line. _And_ _here_ _we_ _go_ _again_…

"Right, well, Marcen has told me you have seen the photograph and now understand why you are here. It was never my intention, Colonel, to hold you accountable for another man's crimes. Still, although I have been assured that you are who you say you are, I still believe you are not entirely innocent in all this. It is still my belief that you resemble Forant too closely not to be aware of his existence, or have some knowledge of his past. Therefore, I still require information from you so that I can bring him to justice. What I require is simple, a current address of where he is living, or if he has passed away, proof of his demise."

John started to speak but she silenced him with a look. "Please, Colonel Sheppard for your own sake, don't say anything now. Take tonight to consider your response, and in the morning we will talk again. I would rather not cause you any more pain, but believe me when I say, I will if I have to."

ooooOoooo

Sheppard limped around the room watched suspiciously by the guard, until his leg nearly gave out and he punched the wall with frustration. He watched as the blood welled up through the small, jagged cuts on his knuckles and winced... **Damn it. **John cursed though gritted teeth as he shook his hand while making his way slowly back to bed exhausted. Too restless to sleep, too helpless to do anything more than stay where he was.

"What the hell have you done to your hand?" John hadn't heard McKay come into the room, and pulled his hand back as back as Rodney went to take a closer look.

"_Fine_. If you want to end up with blood poisoning, then that's okay with me." McKay glared at him, then suddenly his look turned to one of concern.

"She's been to see you, hasn't she? But you're still here, so that's a good thing…right?"

John slumped back against the pillows and closed his eyes. The nagging headache which had been lingering all day suddenly started pounding against the inside of his skull, making even the dimly lit room look far too bright.

"You aren't a genius for nothing are you, McKay. _**Sorry**_…Yup, she's been and that," he pointed to a barely touched meal sitting on a tray "will probably be my last supper."

Rodney flopped down hard on the opposite bed, his eyes desolate. "Oh…"

"Is that it…Oh? No brilliant plan to save the day? No good news to tell me Marcen has finally come to his senses? That's all you can say...**Oh! **You really are losing your touch, McKay."

"I know, I'm sorry, Sheppard."

John cracked open an eye, and immediately felt guilty as he saw a dejected Rodney staring down at the floor. "Just ignore me, Rodney. My leg's killing me, and I have the headache from hell. Still, regardless of how bad I feel now, I know none of it will even compare to what's in store when I can't answer her dumb, _**dumb **_questions!"

"At least let me see what I can do for your hand." Rodney tore off some of his bed sheet and soaked it the wash basin, before starting to clean up the torn bloody skin.

"Thanks, Rodney, and I really am sorry about before. Anyway, how did things go today, any progress? Is Marcen still okay?"

The scientist shook his head. "Nothing new. For some reason, I don't understand why, but Marcen can't seem to get the device to work the way it was designed. He initially managed to get from the lab on Tynos to here, then from here to the surrounding village, but no further. But that's all we would need if I could just get him to agree to help us."

McKay stood up and started pacing the room. "Actually to tell you the truth, the idiot is getting worse. Oh, he tried to hide it, but I saw more blotches on his arm and we still can't figure out how to remove the blasted thing. He knows he'll die without help, so I don't understand why he won't let us go and take him back with us to Atlantis."

Sheppard suddenly saw Rodney raise his fist, about to hit the wall. "I wouldn't do that, McKay…" Once he caught Rodney's attention, he waved his own damaged hand in the air.

"Right…" McKay dropped his hand, and instead lent his head against the wall for a moment before turning to look at his friend. "What the hell are we going to do, Sheppard?"

"Well, tonight I'm going to try and get some rest and so should you. Then tomorrow, I'll have no choice but to suck up whatever she has in store for me. It won't be the first time someone's hurt me, and hopefully it won't be the last." John attempted a smile. "But, there is something I need you to do for me."

"Sure, anything. What is it?"

"When a chance comes for you to escape, and it will, I don't want you searching for me." He saw Rodney about to protest. "I mean it, Rodney, I'll even make it an order if I have to. Look, I'm not being noble but Marcen was right, you would get lost if you tried looking for me, and I don't want you dying down here. Please, I want you…need you, to get back to Atlantis and bring back help."

"No way, Sheppard. I'm not leaving without you, and I'm a civilian remember? So I won't obey your _**stupid**_ order either. Just because I'm not a soldier doesn't mean I don't follow your code. What is it you're actually saying anyway? 'Leave no man behind' doesn't apply to _you_?

Suddenly he saw McKay's eyes grow angry and the scientist turned on him. "Hold on just a minute…I know what this is really about. You don't think I'm capable of getting us out of here, do you? It was fine before when I was using my skills to get the bracelet, but now we know I'm not going to get it in time, you don't think I'm up to the job."

"**McKay**…" John glared at his friend. Then meeting the hurt, concern conflicting in his bereft eyes, his anger melted away. "Rodney…I think you are one of the most capable men I have ever met, and one of the bravest. If it makes you feel any better, if our roles were reversed, I wouldn't be able to find you either. There are just too many damn tunnels down here. Once I leave this room tomorrow, there's no way you'll be able to find me without help; Ronon, Teyla, plus a squad of marines. It's just too dangerous for one man, even a genius like you. So please, would you do that for me, as a friend?"

John saw the fight leave McKay, leaving behind a grim look of acceptance. "Okay, fine. I'll do what you ask, but I don't have to like it. Jusana's a sadistic bitch, John, what are you going to do when she starts working you over?"

"Survive, Rodney, just survive. For as long at it takes you guys to find me…"

ooooOoooo

TBC

So what's next for John? Hope you liked the chapter, and please review.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks again for the reviews and the alerts, I'm really delighted you're enjoying the story. Now what has Jusana got in store for John? Let's just say it's not going to be anything good...Whump alert!

SINS OF THE FATHER

CHAPTER 7

It would have almost been pleasant sitting beside the roaring log fire, if it wasn't for the woman sitting opposite and the ropes digging painfully into his wrists, tied behind his back.

Bizarre was the only word to describe this room. Around the fireplace, a ragged hole carved out the rock, sat two worn burgundy leather wingback chairs and matching sofa, strewn carelessly with an embroidered throw of muted fall colours. Nearby was a coffee table where a framed picture of a youth smiled out, his wild auburn hair falling carelessly over his face, the imagine of Marcen. Yet, as John looked closer, he quickly realised it wasn't the young scientist, for this man looked different somehow; his father maybe, or brother?

His meandering thoughts were broken by the clinking sound of fine china as weak tea, the colour of pale amber, was poured from an ornate teapot decorated with the kind of garish pink roses old ladies seemed to like. Then he watched, bewildered, as Jusana sipped her tea from a matching cup and delicately ate buttered bread and little iced cakes with relish. It brought back memories of the kind of afternoon tea his Grandma used to enjoy, and in many ways this small haven looked like any other cosy lounge. Except for a couple of _tiny_ details, Marcen's mother was no sweet little old lady, and this room was hidden, deep underground surrounded by dark, unforgiving rock walls.

"Excuse my manners, Colonel. I would offer you a cup, but that would involve cutting you loose, something I am not prepared to do at the moment."

"Sorry to hear that, but I've never been fond of weak tea. I like mine strong and dark, something to wake me up in the morning. Anyway, I'm curious. Who is the guy in the photo? He looks very like Marcen."

Sheppard saw her stiffen, then her eyes grow cold, but the moment soon passed and her features again relaxed, as she became preoccupied by which delicacy to choose next.

"That…" Jusana motioned towards the picture "Was my brother Colaine. It was me who found him dead along with other victims of Forant's experiments. He had just turned seventeen."

"I'm sorry for your loss, but I wasn't the man responsible." _Crap…Him and his big mouth._

After that revelation, John stayed silent, watching as she drank the last of her tea, before placing the delicate cup carefully back onto the saucer.

"Now, where were we? Oh, yes, I remember…you were going to tell me where I can find your father."

Anxiety surrounded him like a fog. This wasn't going to end well regardless of what he said, but he was damned if he was going to show her he was afraid.

John looked her straight in the eye, then took a deep breath. "I saw the photograph of the man you call Brantum Forant, and while I admit there is an uncanny resemblance between us, he's not my father. In fact I've never seen him before in my life."

The table went flying through the air as scalding tea and breaking china flew over the room, missing his face by inches.

"You **lie**. I know what this is, you're protecting him, aren't you? Jusana grabbed his hair and forced his head back against the chair so he could feel her hot spit fly against his face.

Unable to move, he snarled back, meeting her glare with defiance. "You may not like it, but it's the truth. My father's name is Patrick. He's an average sort of guy, a little stocky maybe, with dark brown eyes and short grey hair. I take my looks from my mother."

He felt the pressure release as she let go, and watched as she stood back obviously considering something.

"Ah…I think I understand. Married people often stray. Perhaps your father was not man enough for your mother, so she sought comfort, satisfaction, in the arms of another?"

It took all of his control not to show his anger, and he kept his gaze stead, never leaving her face.

"That's quite a tale you have there, lady. Thing is, even if it were true, which it isn't, my mother died when I was only six and if my dad was someone else, she never mentioned it to me."

Jusana slapped his face, hard. "**Damn,** you. Why won't you tell me the truth? Very well, I've tried to be pleasant, but if you want to do things the hard way, I will be only too happy to oblige. Luthame." She signalled to one of the men standing by the entrance. "Take colonel Sheppard down to the old lab and prepare him for interrogation. I will be down presently."

ooooOoooo

The chill seeped into his bones, but it wasn't just the cold making him shiver as the two guards dragged him towards the all too familiar rectangular platform set up in the corner of the room. It was constructed of rough hewn wood, with two long pieces of rope hanging from a roller with a handle at the top, and along the bottom was a fixed bar with two gaps. He had seen one like it once before, on a visit to Madam Tussauds, but theirs was a fake…a toy…not an actually working device like the rack sitting in front of him.

Panic seized him, but he made himself stay calm, biding his time, waiting for the right moment. John flinched as the sharp sting of a knife sliced through his skin, along with the rope but suddenly free, he lashed out. It felt good to feel the satisfying crunch of bone, watching with satisfaction as one guard fell, as if in slow motion onto the floor. Then pain exploded through his gut and he too fell groaning, unable to resist as his tunic was ripped apart, before being thrown onto the rough wooden device.

As his right wrist was being tightly bound with rope, Sheppard hit out with his left. The fist connected against Luthame's jaw, and the big man staggered for a second before quickly retaliating by slamming his head down hard against the thick wooden surface. He zoned out for a second but quickly came round, but not fast enough, as thick, tight ropes now secured both wrists high above his head, and his ankles were held fast under the wooden block. He was screwed…

"How do you like my antique, Colonel Sheppard?" Jusana walked around the rack, caressing it with her fingers, all the while giving John a grim smile.

"I found this when my regiment unearthed an old castle in a neighbouring village many years ago. It had been abandoned for a long time, but many of the contents were still intact. The furniture you have seen in my chambers came from there and _this_…which I found in the lower levels. My commander back then did not understand why I wanted such a device, but allowed me to take it. At the time I did not think I would ever have cause to use it, our militia were much too liberal, but its symmetry, the simplicity of its function appealed to me and I just had to have it. When I first learned of your existence, your bravery, I suspected the usual interrogation techniques may not be sufficient to get the information from you I required. Therefore I brought it out of storage, prepared it for use, and practiced my technique all in your honour. For you, Colonel will be my first living subject to test my skills on."

"Forgive me if I don't feel honoured. You do know these things tear limb from limb, so what use will I be to you dead?"

Out his peripheral vision he saw her walk towards the handle attached to the roller at the top of the rack and his mouth went dry.

"Did you not hear me say 'first living subject'? When I first arrived here, the tunnels were strewn with dead bodies, more victims of Forant's experiments. We were all shocked of course, but as the opportunity came closer to exact revenge for their pointless deaths, I considered it necessary and prudent to make something good come from their demise. Therefore I choose those corpses which were still intact, and practiced, until I fully understood this machine. Now I am skilled with its gears, and can surmise how many cranks of the handle it will take to cause excruciating pain, damage to the muscles, joints, but will still leave the victim…you…alive at the end of it all. Aren't you impressed?"

"Yeah, right…you're nothing but a sick, twisted evil bitch." John spat out, lifting his head, the only thing he could move.

Sheppard saw barely concealed rage etched in her face, then tried to calm down. He was in a bad situation, and getting angry wouldn't help, so he lowered his tone, finally seeking her eyes in a last desperate attempt to make her see reason. "Please, you know I can't be him, I'm too young for a start, so you are persecuting an innocent man. And I really don't know the guy, therefore regardless of what you do to me, or how much pain you inflict, nothing can ever change my answers, because I've already told you the truth."

For a moment, she seemed to consider his words, before moving to the top of the rack. "You have had your chance, Colonel, and I would suggest If you do have a god, pray. Because no one else can help you now."

Blood roared through his ears, and his heart hammered against his chest, as he heard the unmistakable click of the handle turning round, immediately feeling the pressure increase in his arms and shoulders.

Jusana's voice could barely be heard muffled by the sound of the gears, as the roller cranked around, stretching his muscles, pulling him tighter with ever turn. "Regardless of what you say, Sheppard, in the long run it doesn't really matter. A photograph doesn't lie, unlike you. You are kin of Forant, the resemblance is too remarkable for you not to be. Nevertheless, if you don't tell me what I need to know, or even if you can't, I will accept your life as forfeit for your father's crimes. First however, I must hear you admit your relationship and agree to submit to his punishment, for that is the way of my village."

Already his muscles were burning, his shoulders aching, strained to their limits and he could feel beads of sweat falling down his face, when she stopped.

"That will do for now, Colonel. Your muscles are already straining…don't deny it, I can see it in your face. And the pain you feel now will only intensify the longer you stay in this position, so I will leave the rack to do its work and come back to check on you later." As she turned to walk away, Jusana smiled. "Don't go anywhere, will you?"

ooooOoooo

John knew the room was cold, freezing in fact, but his body was hot, roasting, as fiery pain rippled in endless waves across his muscles. He tried not to flinch, keep perfectly still, do anything to ease the unbearable agony, but his body was trembling, and he groaned as wave upon wave of sharp, pain seared through him sending hot tears steaming down his face. His throat was dry, parched, and he wanted to escape, take his mind to a happier place, anywhere from the horrendous torture being inflicted upon him. Except he'd been left shrouded in darkness, just like before, the inky blackness only serving to intensive his suffering. There was nothing for him to see, nothing on which to focus to ease his misery, so all his concentration, his senses, were alive to one thing and one thing alone …his pain.

Time no longer mattered. It could have been minutes, hours, but he couldn't think, didn't know. He just wanted the pain gone…then it was. Numbness replaced it, all feeling gone, no longer even a twinge. Deep down in his fevered brain, John knew that couldn't be good, but right now he didn't care. He was free from pain and nothing else mattered…

Then, suddenly the cold was back, chilling his skin, seeping into his very core. His chest felt heavy, achy, and he was straining, struggling to breathe. Gripped by shivers, his muscles twitched sending him into convulsions, reawakening his misery as spasms buckled his body once more, and his torture continued.

All around him was blurred, but he could make out an outline, a woman standing by his side…Teyla, Elizabeth…Nancy?

"Have you anything you want to tell me yet, Colonel?" His dreams shattered in pieces as he heard the grating sound of _her_ voice, and saw her sharp, lined features come into focus.

"Rot…in…hell…bitch."

"Very well. I can tell you need a little more convincing to loosen your tongue." Anger flashed across her face, and she nodded sharply before moving back, out of sight once more.

Sheppard heard his breathe hitch, felt himself shake as the handle started cranking once more. He tried to hide his fear, closed his eyes against her, braced himself for the increased pressure, but his muscles relaxed instead.

Instead of a reprieve, the nightmare deeped as white hot pain came flooding back, searing through every sinew, every nerve, tearing cries of anguish from his throat. His muscles shuddered, quivering out of control, his overloaded senses shrouding him in a haze of endless, unyielding agony. Then it all went dark.

Nausea washed over him, and he licked his lips but tasted only bile sticking in his throat. The fog lifted, his vision cleared and gradually his misery started to ease. He thought she had gone, hoped, but there she stood watching him, searching his eyes…smiling.

Sheppard saw the glass of water in her hand, wanted to refuse, but his throat felt like cut glass, and pride a luxury he couldn't afford. She raised the glass to his lips and it felt wonderful. He was so thirsty, he could have gulped it down in one, but no. He made himself sip it slowly, controlled. John knew he was beat, but he wasn't beaten and wanted her to know he was far from broken.

"Feeling better now? Ready to answer my questions?" Jusana turned to the guard and handed over the glass. "It's quite simple, Colonel. Just tell me where your father is, and all this misery, pain will be over."

John choked on a cry. "I…told…you...I…**don't**… know. You…may…as…well…end…this …now."

Jusana grabbed his jaw, her nails digging into his flushed face. "Are you telling me you're willing to take the responsibility for your father's crimes?"

"No…"

His face stung as she released him and he heard, rather than saw her making her way back to the handle.

The sound of the wheel cranking once more make him tremble. One notch, then two pulled him taut. Staining his aching muscles, making him gasp as his agony retuned anew.

Three notches, then four stretched him tighter than ever before, his body squirming, buckling, convulsing. Burning spikes of pain rippling though his body. His legs, his chest, his arms.

Five notches, then it came…**pop**. A scream rent the air, his, as his left shoulder dislocated. Tears came unhindered. He was sobbing, in so much pain…_please_ _let_ _it_ _stop_. "_**Arghhh**_…"

"Tell me what I need to know, or accept the sins of your father." Jusana raged, her face crimson with anger, before pulling the handle one more time…

Six cranks. He yelled an agonised cry, ripped from torn bloody lips, as his right shoulder joined his left and darkness wavered as he felt his muscles ripping apart, consumed in endless torment as every part of his body screamed.

"End this, Sheppard. **Tell** me…I **need** to know…" She banged on the rack with her fists, then turned on him.

Blows rained upon him as she hit him, again and again. Blood ran down his face, obscuring his vision, but he was past pain, past caring. Unable to speak as his vision blurred till blessed oblivion finally took him.

ooooOoooo

Jusana stopped, stepped back, and stared at her hands now covered in blood.

She was shaking as she raised her head to look at the broken man lying deathly still on the table. His once handsome face cut and bleeding, his toned, healthy body now battered and bruised. Hesitantly, she reached out and moved her fingertips to search for a pulse. It was weak, but still there. As she straightened up, her trembling hand pushed back damp tendrils of hair from her face, and she stared at the man lying there, as if for the first time…

"Mistress, perhaps he doesn't know. No one could withstand that amount of pain and not tell the truth. We could return him to his people, maybe they would be able to help you in your search?" Luthame touched Jusana's shoulder but recoiled as she slapped his jaw, making him stagger.

"How **dare **you. Who do you think you are to question me? This man is guilty, whatever he may say, and I will get him to tell me what I need to know. I just have to find his weakness…"

ooooOoooo

TBC

Hope you enjoyed the whump, and please let me know what you thought of it. I really like to know what you guy's like for future reference!


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks so much for the reviews, and I'm so pleased you liked the whump! Now on with the rest of the tale...

SINS OF THE FATHER

CHAPTER 8

Awareness returned slowly, along with the agony. There were no good drugs numbing his body, nothing to ease his misery, but at least he was still breathing…still alive for his team to find him.

John knew he was free from the rack as the ropes which had gouged into his wrists were gone. In fact there were no restraints at all now, no longer necessary as his abused and broken body could not longer pose a threat. He sat slumped, his arms lying limp and useless by his side, with all the muscles in his body pulled or torn apart, unable to move without suffering excruciating pain. Also, his face ached, a lot. John was unable to recall how that happened until he remembered Jusana's face contorted with rage, followed by her fist hitting him again and _again_.

There was a noise in the background; someone was there, moving about. He listened carefully trying to guess who it was, but the closer they came, the click clack of high heels against hard unforgiving stone was unmistakable, it was _her_. Each small movement sent white hot pain searing through his body, so he stayed perfectly still and kept his eyes shut, hoping she would go, leave him in peace for at least a while longer. John knew Jusana wasn't finished with him yet, but he just hoped he could hang on long enough for rescue to come…

"_**Gah**_…"

Jusana smirked, as Sheppard flinched from the warm, damp cloth pressed to his cut face. "You do know its pointless trying to hide anything from me, Colonel. I've known you've been awake for quite some time."

"Go…away. leave…me…alone." Sheppard's eyes flew open to reveal he was back in the dentists' chair with her face close to his. He sharply turned his head away, only to have it firmly yanked back, to meet her amused gaze, as she continued mopping up the blood, cleaning his wounds.

"I must apol…"

"For…tearing…me…apart…_**Aghh …**_punishing…me…_**Gah**_…for …another man's crimes." John gasped in pain, as she continued with her latest assault.

Her eyes locked onto his, a trace of remorse, embarrassment in their depths. "No. I don't regret that, and you were being _interrogated_, Colonel, not punished. But I do regret losing my temper. It was unprofessional, and an unacceptable lapse of judgement on my part for which I am sorry. However, as a soldier, I am sure you will understand that until I get what I need from you, your interrogation will continue."

Sheppard began a bitter laugh, but moaned as a dry cough racked his body.

Torture…is…_not_…interrogation." John bit his lip as another wave of pain spiked through him.

He watched her shrug with indifference, and was filled with rage. "In any case, Colonel, it is very likely that any further _interrogation _would probably kill you at the moment. Therefore, I have decided to ask for Doctor McKay to be brought here, to find out if he can provide any _insight_ into your past…"

"**Leave**, **McKay** **alone**…it's me you want." John tried to rise, but fell back groaning, as his broken body and useless arms screamed out in pain.

Jusana lifted his chin and looked at him with mock consideration. "Well that is certainly true, but if you won't give me what I want…"

_Crap, crap and double crap. The bitch was forcing his hand and left him with no choice. _"Fine…if I agree to accept the punishment for this Forant guy, will you leave McKay alone and let him go?"

He watched her take away the cloth and step back smiling. "Of course. You have my word he will not be harmed, and as soon as he has finished helping my son, Doctor McKay will be allowed to leave."

Sheppard shook his head. "No, not good enough. Rodney has to be set free **now**. Do we have a deal, or are you as corrupt as you are sadistic?"

For a second he thought she was going to hit him again, but with barely concealed rage she finally spoke.

"As you wish, you have my word he will be set free. Now, Colonel Sheppard, do you admit to being part of the Forant family, the son of Brantum?" John shook his head. "Very well, if you won't admit to your association, and are not prepared to tell me where he is, will you then accept the punishment for his crimes?"

"I can't admit to being a Forant, because I'm not…but I will accept the punishment for his crimes. Will _that_ satisfy the laws of your village?" John answered sarcastically.

"You honestly believe you have no connection to him." He saw Jusana gaze at him in disbelief. "Never the less, regardless of what you think, I am prepared to accept your life as forfeit for his misdeeds, therefore, your execution will be carried out tomorrow morning. In the meantime I will have someone bring you something to eat, and allow you to rest."

"A last meal for the condemned man?" Sheppard smirked. "What is the penalty anyway? Will I be torn apart by the rack, fried in the electric chair, shot at dawn?"

"Actually, Colonel I have still to decide your fate. In our laws the punishment must fit the crime, but as I don't have the means to turn you into what they became." Sheppard winced, remembering the agonies he'd endured when turning into a bug. "I will have to think of something else…something appropriate. Now please, take the remaining time you have left to make peace with your god, if you have one, and I will see you for the last time in the morning."

John had always wondered when he would die, how it would happen, where it would be and why. Always in the back of his mind, he'd hoped it would be saving the innocent from persecution, or even protecting his people, his family from danger. However as he looked into the cold eyes of the woman standing in front of him, he knew his would now be a pointless death, for something he hadn't even done. But what choice did he have? There was no way he would allow Rodney to endure the same suffering inflicted upon him, so if his death meant his friend would be safe and return home to Atlantis, at least it wouldn't be entirely for nothing…

ooooOoooo

Beads of sweat dripped down Marcen's face, and Rodney didn't need to see the young scientist's arm to know his symptoms were definitely getting worse.

Everything was going to hell. Despite both their efforts, they were no closer to discovering a way to release Marcen from the bracelet, plus he was worried sick about Sheppard. He'd been to the lab twice since John went missing, and knew from his friends condition after the last time he'd had a _chat_ with Jusana, that she was a seriously nasty piece of work.

All sorts of thoughts were running through his head. What if John was dead, how could he go back and tell Atlantis, their friends? No one man made the city what it was…but Sheppard, well, he came pretty damn close.

Fact was, life there just wouldn't be the same without him. If it hadn't been for John he probably would've been holed up in his lab, a dull boring man with a small life and no friends. Once upon a time Rodney thought he had everything he wanted. He'd convinced himself he was happy on his own, and didn't need or want the distraction of family…friends. His work was all that mattered then, and so what if he went home to a lonely apartment to watch Dr Who re-runs while sharing cold pizza and stale Cheetos with the cat.

Why Sheppard followed him, singled him out that first day, he still didn't know, but boy, was he glad John had. Now he still loved his work, but his life was so much _more_. He was part of a team, Sheppard's team, and they weren't the dry boring acquaintances of before. They were friends, an extended family, and actually, if he was honest, he was closer to Teyla, Ronon and Sheppard, than his own flesh and blood.

Sometimes, the life he now lead terrified him. Like right now, not knowing if he would ever get out of here. Or what would happen if he couldn't do what Marcen wanted, would he suffer at Jusana's hands as well?

Up until a few years ago the most dangerous thing he'd ever done was drink lemonade, or jay walk across the street. These days he was fighting Wraith, going on missions, and firing his P90 with the best of them. Okay, well maybe _not_ the best…but he felt more alive and happier than he'd ever been in his life.

No, he wouldn't swap the life he had now, and as for Sheppard, he couldn't be dead. Rodney refused to believe it, because to go back to Atlantis without him, his best friend, was unthinkable.

A rustle in the background made both men turn round to see Marcen's mother standing by the doorway. McKay thought she looked slightly hesitant, as she attempted to soften her features by pinning an awkward smile on her face.

"Marcen. May I have a word with you a moment, in private?"

Rodney saw a look of surprise flash across the young man's face, quickly replaced by one of apprehension, before he excused himself and made his way, along with his mother into the corridor outside.

Within minutes raised voices could be heard, so Rodney made his way to stand just out of sight by the opening.

"**What! **How **dare** you have agreed to that. Do you know what you've done?" Rodney heard Marcen rage, then, as if defeated take a deep breath before calming his voice. "If Dr McKay goes, so does my last chance…"

"Last chance for what, Marcen, what haven't you told me?"

"My last chance…to solve the problem with the bracelet."

"Is that all? You're not hiding anything from me, are you, Son?" McKay detected a note of concern in her voice.

"No, Mother. Nothing that would take precedence over your vendetta. What did you have to do to get him to confess anyway, put him on the rack?"

Rodney's blood ran cold, then he realised Marcen was probably kidding. Who the hell used a rack these days? He couldn't be serious, could he?

"It really doesn't matter how I got him to confess, but I did give him my word Dr McKay would be released, and as you know, Marcen I always keep my word."

"Very well, Mother. As you wish, I will arrange for his release tomorrow."

Concern about Sheppard, confusion over what he'd just heard, clouded his brain like a fog. Rodney only roused himself with seconds to spare, and returned to the safety of the work bench, just as he heard Marcen returning to the lab.

He knew something really bad must have happened to make John confess to something he hadn't done. It was common knowledge Sheppard could withstand a hell of a lot of pain, so what had she done to him? Worse still, in confessing, John sealed his own death warrant. A horrible thought suddenly struck him. John couldn't have…could he? The stupid, self sacrificing idiot. Rodney felt sick as it suddenly dawned on him that his freedom was the reason Sheppard confessed. John was going to die in order that he could return to Atlantis…so now what?

ooooOoooo

"Why didn't you tell her, Marcen?" Rodney asked after she been gone a few minutes.

Marcen shuffled his feet like a young schoolboy before catching his eye. "Because it wouldn't have made any difference. Because I know she would still have chosen her _precious_ vendetta over me."

"_What, _are you serious? She might be a sadistic bitch…"

"_Careful_, Dr McKay, she _is_ my mother."

Rodney swallowed and fingered his jaw, remembering Marcen too had a temper. "Sorry, I apologise. What I mean is, you are her son and she must love you. Don't you think if she knew your life was in danger she would let Sheppard go, let us all leave so you could get the help you need on Atlantis?"

Marcen sighed. "No, Dr McKay she wouldn't. Oh, I know she cares for me in her way, but it's only recently she came back into my life, as for many years I lived with my father in the city. My mother sent me to him when I was only five to begin my education, and after that, I only lived with her during the holidays. Even then, she left me in the care of others while she pursed her obsession, her _quest_ to find Brantum Forant. It was only after I stole the bracelet and my father disowned me, that mother took me in. I foolishly thought it was out of love, interest in my work, but it soon became clear she only wanted one thing…your friend. Mother had seen him during a rare visit to the lab. It was during the first visit from your team, when colonel Sheppard was with you. At the time I was amused by the intense look she gave him, but thought nothing of it, as all the women were acting strangely around him that day. It was only later, after I went to stay with her, she told me she believed he was Forant and asked me to abduct him, along with you. Anyway, I know I shouldn't have agreed to it, but I needed her help to keep hidden, plus recruit strong men from her village to carry out my plan. In the end, Dr McKay, I didn't feel I had a choice."

In some ways, Rodney could identify with Marcen. His parents had also been remote, too busy with their own lives, careers, to bother with either Jeannie or himself, but he would never, ever have done what Marcen did.

"There are always choices, Marcen…but you made the wrong one. You chose your own ambition and greed over our basic human rights, and here you are telling me about your mother's obsession! What about yours? Are your seriously trying to tell me you're any different than she is?"

Rodney saw the young scientist get angry and raise his fist. "**Fine**…if you want to hit me…then hit me! Violence is all you two are good at, isn't it? And I was actually starting to think there was a decent brain under that thick skull of yours, but no…you're no better than she is."

Disgusted, he started to walk towards the opening looking for the guard to take him back to his cell.

"Wait…" Rodney heard Marcen calling to him. "You're right, about everything. It was my own obsession that got me, or should I say you and your friend into this situation, and I'm sorry."

"**Sorry**? Sorry, you kidnapped us? Or maybe sorry because you shot my friend, then allowed your mother to do who knows what the hell else to him? Oh, and of course sorry, for the fact he's going to die tomorrow all because of what you started. Well you know something, Marcen, I'm _sorry_ too. Real sorry, because I'm going to lose the best friend I've ever had all because you couldn't say no to _mummy_."

Rodney expected to be lying on the floor by now rubbing his jaw, but Marcen turned to him with eyes full of remorse. "I know…and as I said before you're right. Sorry isn't a strong enough word for everything I've done, so that's why I'm going to put things right, and save Colonel Sheppard, before its too late…"

ooooOoooo

TBC

Hope you enjoyed and please review. I really do like to know what you guy's think, and they do inspire me to keep writing.


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks again for the reviews, they really do mean a lot.

SINS OF THE FATHER

CHAPTER 9

Pain had been his constant companion for some time now, so the thought of dying no longer bothered him. In fact it would almost be a relief to be finally free from his misery. Almost.

Part of him still clung to the hope of a last minute reprieve, or maybe even a rescue. Except the other part, the realist, knew that even if help did come now it would probably be too late. He'd had enough injuries to know something was seriously wrong, as his chest felt heavy and the sharp fiery metallic taste in his mouth confirmed what John suspected hours ago. He was bleeding inside, probably from a lung.

Ironically, it wasn't the rack responsible for the killer wound, although the aches from those injuries had masked the chest pains for some time. No, it was Jusana's fists which were responsible for breaking one of his cracked ribs, maybe two, causing searing agony and progressively less air with every breath.

It was almost funny in a weird, sick kind of way, as Jusana had cheated herself out her big execution scene…the pinnacle of her ambition to make him pay for _his_ fathers crimes. He thought of Patrick, his real dad, and wondered how he would react at the news of his untimely demise. Would his old man mourn him, feel sorry even, and what about Dave? Sure, John knew for appearances sake they would attend his funeral, if Atlantis ever got back his body...but grieve for him? After everything that happened and all the harsh angry words spoken so long ago, that was something he really couldn't be sure about.

As John stared up at the jagged ceiling, he coughed and didn't need a mirror or his useless hands to tell him the warm slick, wet feeling on his lips was yet more blood, he didn't have much time left. Bitter tears stung his eyes falling down his face, but not for himself, he was ready to die. Death was always on your shoulder when you signed up for your country, a risk he'd come to terms with early on in his career.

Truth was there were worse things than losing your life. Being unable to fly would be an unbearable burden to him, that and not being able to protect his friends, his family. In many ways John reckoned he maybe deserved this. The loved ones of fifty-five Genii soldiers would probably testify to that, not to mention the fact it was him who awakened the Wraith. So maybe this was his punishment, and if so he deserved to die a painful death. He hated the thought though he was going to leave unfinished business behind. There would be no chance now to make peace with his father, and he felt bad for letting Rodney down.

John could almost envisage the expression on McKay's face upon finding his body. A mix of grief and anger. Anger at _him_ for not hanging on as he'd promised, so he could save the day and his life one more time. Mostly though, he hated the thought of anyone finding him like that, a dried up broken corpse, but especially Rodney, who wasn't a soldier and who still was uncomfortable with death. Then shamefully, John realised some of those tears were for him after all. He was leaving a good life behind, people who cared for him, and worse still he was going to die in this hellish place alone, without having the chance to say goodbye…

ooooOoooo

"What the **hell**?"

Dimly he heard a familiar voice "Rodney?"

"Didn't I tell you I would get you out of here…don't I always?" John cracked open an eyelid and saw an expression of horror on McKay's face. Yeah, he probably looked a sight.

"You weren't thinking of dying on me were you?" Rodney moved aside slightly to reveal Marcen, who was standing just behind him. "Look, wonder boy here has finally come to his senses and has come over to the good guys. Sheppard, are you still with me?"

John's vision started to grey and he felt himself passing out. At the sound of Rodney's voice shouting his name he tried once more to focus…_he_ _could_ _do this_.

Sheppard heard McKay's voice getting more frantic, a sure sign he was really worried. "C'mon, Sheppard, all you have to do is stay alive long enough so I can you get home for Carson to fix you. Can you do that for me …please?"

A ghost of a smile played on his lips and he replied in a rasping voice. "Sure…piece of cake."

Another cough racked his body spraying droplets of blood onto McKay's dirty, worn uniform. He knew his condition was grave, but it hurt to see it reflected in his friend's eyes.

"I know this is going to hurt, John, but we have to get moving." McKay nodded to Marcen who took up position on the other side of the chair. "One…two…"

"_**Arghh**_…_**Mmmph**_…" He screamed as white hot pain seared through his body and darkness threatened to overwhelm him.

"I'm so, sorry for this…for everything I've done, Colonel." John's was struggling to hang on, unable to speak, as the young man gripped firmly onto his side.

**"Damn** your mother, Marcen. What kind of a person, let alone a woman, would do this to another human being?"

"One, Doctor McKay who is asking you nicely, to leave Colonel Sheppard where he is."

They turned round to see Jusana standing, holding a gun pointing straight at them, disappointment clearly etched on her face as she looked at her son. "I don't understand, Marcen, why are you doing this to me?"

Sheppard watched bleary eyed, as Marcen turned to face his mother, but instead of being frightened he spoke to her with contempt.

"That's right, Mother, everything is always about _you_, isn't it? What you want, your obsession, your rigid, cruel set of antiquated rules. It really doesn't matter to you what's morally right or wrong anymore does it? You've completely lost all sense of decency, compassion even. Do you know something, I really don't believe you ever loved me at all, not really. It's taken me a long time to realise it, but all you've ever cared about is getting revenge for Uncle Colaine."

"How **dare** you speak to me like that…I'm you're mother!" Jusana's face grew crimson with anger as she raged at her son.

A grim laugh started to bubble in Marcen's throat. "Yes you _are_…and I'm ashamed to say, I have turned out more like you than I ever wanted to admit. How could I have allowed you to talk me into abducting this innocent man, even going so far as to put a bullet through his leg, just so you could get take revenge for the actions of someone who probably died years ago." He shook his head and gave her a bemused smile. "Do you know something, Mother, it really pains me to say it, but I very nearly became as twisted as you are."

"Mar…cen…st…p" John saw Jusana's hand start to finger the trigger as her eyes filled with rage.

"No, Colonel, she needs to hear this." He spoke gently to the wounded man before continuing to speak. "I'm dying, Mother, as surely as this man beside me, but hopefully I can get him the help he needs so I can at least go without his death on my conscience."

"No…you're lying. What are you telling me this? It can't be true."

Marcen rolled up his sleeve to reveal his arm completely covered in ugly blotches, and had the satisfaction of watching Jusana's eyes go wide with shock. "Yes, it's true, Mother. I'm dying all because of my arrogance, _my_ obsession, and it's only a matter of time before the sickness ravages my body ending my life. Unless I leave now, and go with these men to their home where I may have a chance."

Rodney turned to Jusana. "He's telling the truth. In Atlantis I'll have a greater chance of removing the bracelet, and there are doctors there who will work night and day to find a cure. Just let us all leave and…"

"**NO!" **Jusana raised her gun at Sheppard. "You can leave, Doctor McKay, get my son the help he needs, but _he_ stays. A price must be paid…"

In response Marcen signalled to Rodney, and John yelped, the agony almost too much as they lifted him off the chair.

"**Stop. Stop** **now**! I won't say it again." Sheppard heard the familiar click of a gun barrel, then the shot, as the floor rose to meet him and he fell to the ground unconscious.

ooooOoooo

The weight of Sheppard's limp body pulled him to his knees, and Rodney turned to find John lying deathly still on the floor while next to him lay Marcen. The young scientist still alive, but struggling to breathe, bleeding heavily from a gaping hole in his chest.

"Why did you do this, Son…why?" Jusana's sobs racked her body as she cradled her only child in her arms.

"Becau…because…I…couldn't…let…you…kill…him." Blood was pooling on the floor as the young man's raspy breaths could barely be heard. "This…must….stop…now."

McKay watched the scene playing out in front of him powerless to help, as Marcen groaned then reached for his mother's hand. "I…Marcen…s…n…of…Jusana…giv…my…l…fe…for…th…s…ma…n's…crim…es."

"Please...son…don't do this…"

"I…alrea…y…ha…v…"

Rodney heard Jusana's heartfelt cry as the young scientist's eyes closed for the last time. It was still hard for him to believe, but Marcen had deliberately given up his life by taking the bullet meant for Sheppard. More than that though, Marcen's death was also going to be their salvation, as he watched astounded, as the bracelet split open and fell from the dead man's wrist.

He touched John's neck, there was barely a pulse and Rodney knew if he didn't act soon Sheppard was going to die here. Jusana hadn't moved, oblivious to everything, still rocking her dead son back and forth on the cold stone floor. If they were going to escape, now was their chance. As quietly as possible he reached for the bracelet, felt the smooth cold metal in his hand, then turned round to find Jusana pointing the still smoking gun straight at him.

"Put it down, Mistress. I heard your son forfeit his life for Sheppard's so the laws of our village have been satisfied. You must let them go." Jusana and Rodney turned and saw Luthame standing there, a grim, determined look in his face.

McKay watched the woman's face crumple and her shoulders slump as she let the gun drop to the floor.

"Leave…go now, and take the others with you. My place is here, with my son."

Without giving it a second thought, Rodney grabbed the bracelet and clicked it around his left wrist. Now all he had to do was get one unconscious, surprising heavy, Lt Colonel out of here…

As if Luthame had read his mind, the big man came over and picked John up in his arms, as if he weighed no more than a feather. "Do you know how to work the device, Doctor?"

Rodney shrugged. "I think so, I have to. My friend's life depends upon it."

Luthame nodded and Rodney felt grateful for the man's acceptance of his ability. If only he was as certain…

Almost as if the others had borne witness to the distressing, awful scene which had just occurred, Rodney watched as one by one the other guards came out to join them. Once their jailers, they were now eager to help, another helping Luthame share the burden while a makeshift stretcher was made so that Sheppard could be carried more easily.

"Is everyone here?" McKay turned to Luthame who nodded, and Rodney immediately felt awkward, as all eyes turned upon him

The bracelet felt surprising light against his wrist as he searched it for something, anything, that would give him a clue as to what he should press and where, so that he could get them all out of here.

Beads of sweat were running down his face, and his heart was racing by the time he finally felt the tiny oblong shaped impression engraved in the metal. Now all he had to do was remember the schematics he'd studied only the other day. _C'mon Rodney, this should be child's play…_Then it suddenly hit him, and keeping an image of the stargate firmly in his mind while holding firmly on the bracelet, he closed his eyes…

A strange sensation, like a small internal hum vibrated softly through his wrist, and a shimmering rectangular doorway appeared in front of him. Only yards away, stood the 'gate they had come through what seemed like an eternity ago. Behind, the black stone caves which had been their prison, and which would now become the tomb of the evil, deranged woman who had nearly taken Sheppard's life.

Rodney could scarcely contain his impatience as the last man walked into the sunlit leafy forest ahead. And, in his haste almost stumbled, blinded by the glare as he too left the cave behind and walked unsteadily into the forest.

In the early morning light, Sheppard's livid bruises could now clearly be seen. Traces of caked blood were visable around his swollen eyes, nose and mouth in stark contrast to his ghostly complexion. Against the vivid colours of the lush, green foliage surrounding them, Rodney thought he was dead. He moved a trembling hand towards him, searching desperately for a pulse, becoming frantic when for endless moments he thought he had been too late. Then slowly he stood back on his heels and let out the breath he'd been holding. It was there, weak and thready…but still there…John was still alive.

No words were necessary as Luthame and his men went forward and gently placed the stretcher on the dry, brown earth at the bottom of the 'gate, before nodding to Rodney and walking away. McKay wanted to scream at them, ask them why they had played their part in their misery, in John's persecution, but held himself back. It would be pointless, a waste of his energy and Sheppard's time. Their ordeal was over, done with and no good could come of his protestations, nor would it undo the harm which had been done to his friend.

Firmly placing his shaking hands onto the dial he pressed in the address for Atlantis. Home. Yet, even as the event horizon sprang into life, his weary brain realised there was something missing…his IDC. Where was it? He couldn't remember if Marcen took it off him or not. Did he still have it? As his hand dug deep into his pocket relief flooded over him, as the smooth feel of the cool plastic seemed to mould into his grasp. Without waiting another instant he sent the message to Atlantis…they were coming home.

ooooOoooo

TBC

Rescued at last...But the story isn't over yet. Hope you liked the chapter and please review, as I really do like to know what you guy's think.


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks for the reviews and the alerts, and for all those of you still sticking with the story. Well the boy's are finally home, so what now?

SINS OF THE FATHER

CHAPTER 10

A jumble of familiar sights and sounds greeted their arrival on the other side. Voices were speaking to him, buzzing in his ear, but he couldn't make sense of what they were saying. Gentle hands were trying to guide him forward, but he brushed them off, no one was taking him away from Sheppard now, _no_ _one_. It was his job to save him, get him to safety…didn't they know that?

Through a fog he heard a familiar Scottish voice, the man he was searching for, the only one who could fix his friend, save Sheppard's life.

"**Damn**. I can't get a bloody pulse. The colonels coding, get me the defibrillator…**now**!"

Rodney was shaking as he heard the all too familiar zap, the tension palpable as the electrical current rent the air. _This_ _couldn't_ _be_ _happening_ _not_ _now, not_ _after_ _everything._

Beckett shouted "**Again, **clear…" There was silence, except for a bang, then a long solitary beep. "Okay, one more time, people."

McKay watched helplessly as Sheppard's chest bucked against the current spiking through him, then heard Carson speak in a relived but rushed tone. "Right, we've got him back, but he's not going to stay stable for long so get him to the infirmary stat, and prep him for surgery."

"Rodney…Can you hear me, son?" McKay was barely aware that Carson had turned to speak to him.

"You've done well, Rodney, you got him home and I'm going to do everything I can to save him. Now I need you to go with Teyla, she'll take you to the Infirmary to get checked out. Will you do that for me?"

Rodney wondered why they were all giving him such concerned looks. It was Sheppard who needed help not him, he was _fine_. In fact he was just about to tell them that, when his vision blurred and it all went black.

ooooOoooo

Under the Ancient scanner the full extent of Sheppard's injuries soon became known. Carson drew in a sharp breath, shocked to the core when faced with the horrendous damage someone, no _something_ had inflicted upon his friend.

The most serious injury a punctured lung, although grave, was common enough. As for the rest, Beckett lost count of the number of torn muscles in his friend's torso along with not one, but _two_ dislocated shoulders. His legs hadn't got off unscathed either, with a barely healed bullet wound in the right thigh and yet more pulled and torn muscles in both limbs. Thanks to gene therapy most of the tears could be treated without the need for surgery, but he was doubtful about the area around the shoulders. Just looking at the mangled mess of his friend's wrists told the story he didn't want to believe, but there was really no other explanation. Some sadistic sod had tortured Sheppard by tying him to a device and cruelly cranking it until it had nearly ripped him apart. Carson was a peaceful man who disliked violence of any kind, but right now he would love to get his hands on the bastard who'd inflicted such horrific damage on this good man, and give them a few turns on the rack himself.

Even as the fleeting thought passed, Beckett knew despite his anger, he could never ever be that ruthless. Besides, he had a bigger priority, saving the critically wounded man lying in front of him. First he needed to get the colonel stable, repair the damage to the lung and then, but only then, would be able to see what was necessary to repair the rest of the damage.

Carson moved his head from side to side and rolled his shoulders. He was tired, and the surgery hadn't even started yet. As he walked away to scrub up, a sudden thought made him stop by the office and snatch up the rest of his sandwich and a fresh cup of coffee. His stomach was growling and he needed something to keep hunger at bay, because the way things were looking, lunch and maybe even dinner might not be an option as this promised to be a very long day.

ooooOoooo

The pounding in his head was making him cranky. Rodney knew it, but he still couldn't help lashing out at Marie, watching her retreating figure as she marched off with a thinly disguised look of irritation on her face. Teyla slapped his hand as he picked at his brand new IV, but didn't even flinch at his best angry glare so he thumped his head back against the pillow, folded his arms, and huffed.

"Rodney, we are all worried about John, but you too have been through a terrible ordeal. Dr Biro says your blood sugar was dangerously low and you are also badly dehydrated. If you rest and let the medical staff help you, I'm sure they will release you to your quarters as soon as you are able." Teyla touched his shoulder but he drew back, only to feel guilty at the wounded expression on her face.

As she went to move away, he made to grab her hand and winced at the pull of the IV. "I'm sorry, Teyla…really. It's just that, well I need to be doing something, _anything_ but lying here, waiting for news."

"Would this thing help?" Ronon appeared holding out his laptop.

Rodney's eyes flew open, practically grabbing it off him. "About time." He heard a familiar grunt and saw Ronon glower. "_Sorry_. What I meant to say was 'Thanks'. Now this is more like it."

He rubbed his hands together, flexed his fingers, and was about to type when he remembered Sheppard, still in surgery after three hours with no news, and suddenly the laptop lost its interest. Rodney slowly closed the lid and turned to his team mates. "I thought Elizabeth would have been down by now. You know…to ask me what happened."

Teyla spoke softly, a mixture of regret and guilt etched in her face. "Dr Weir is meeting with the leaders of Tynos as we speak, but…" Teyla edged closer. "Where were you held, Rodney? After you missed your check in we carried out a thorough search of the area, but couldn't find any trace of your transponder signals. For a while we thought you had been taken off world. Had you?"

Rodney shook his head." No, we were taken to a facility deep underground."

He opened his mouth wide, about to continue but Teyla interrupted. "At the time, Elizabeth spoke to the chief scientist you arranged to meet that day. Dr Timouran told her she suspected _your_ abduction could be connected to the disappearance of one of her assistants who'd stole an ancient artefact some weeks ago. Except, if that was the case, what we couldn't understand was why the colonel was also taken. I'm so sorry we didn't manage to rescue you, Rodney, and I can't help but think if only Ronon and I had been there, none of this would have happened."

He went to reply, but then Dr Biro appeared. "Visiting time is over I'm afraid, people. Dr McKay needs his rest." She smiled indulgently at the two friends, while lowering the head of the bed.

Rodney started to protest, but the doctor deftly removed the laptop before taking a syringe from a nearby tray and pushing it into the IV. "Now, I know you are anxious about colonel Sheppard, but hopefully by the time this sedative wears off he will be out of surgery, and you will be feeling much better."

McKay started to rage at his enforced nap, but he was already feeling woozy. "I need to speak to Elizabeth. I'm…fine…I…don.t…ne…d…to…sl…p."

ooooOoooo

Ronon and Teyla exchanged a conspiratorial smile with the infirmary doctor, as they watched their team-mate and friend's eyes close, and soon heard his loud snores fill the ward.

Teyla started to gently tuck the covers around his neck only to stop as she caught a glimpse of the smooth metallic bracelet around Rodney's wrist. She gazed up at the doctor puzzled. "What is this, Dr Biro? I've never seen Rodney wear jewellery before and besides, I thought it was forbidden to wear any kind of adornment in here."

The doctor nodded. "That's correct Teyla. It is. However when doctor McKay first came in, we tried everything we could to remove it, but it wouldn't budge. Later, after he regained consciousness I tried to speak to him about it, but he was too agitated about the colonel to be coherent. I suppose I should have asked him again before I gave him the shot, but he really is exhausted and I knew he wouldn't rest, not while the colonel is still in surgery. To be honest, I didn't think it was that important but if neither of _you_ have never seen it before, where did it come from? "

ooooOoooo

Dusk was falling as Carson stumbled out onto the nearest balcony. He was still wearing his bloodstained scrubs, but after nearly ten hours in theatre, he desperately needed a little fresh air before speaking to Sheppard's team.

Truth was, the surgery hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped. Repairing the lung had been more or less straightforward, but Sheppard crashed while on the table, and although he'd brought him back…again, the cause, an elusive bleeder, took valuable time to repair.

On the plus side, he discovered most of the tears could be treated non surgically, but the shoulders had been another matter altogether. The right clavicle was relocated easily enough, but the muscles surrounding it had been badly torn so some reconstruction was required. Unfortunately though he found the left shoulder fractured, and five hours into the surgery he'd had to call for an orthopaedic consult, resulting in Sheppard now having four pins keeping the bone in situ.

Beckett knew the next seventy-two hours were critical. If Sheppard was still alive after that, and provided there were no further complications, then it was likely he would live to fight another day. When that day would be however, was problematic. John would require intensive physical therapy for several months, with no guarantee he would ever get full mobility back in his left arm. Still, Beckett knew the Colonel had beaten the odds many time before, and there was no reason to assume this time would be any different…as least he hoped not.

Pushing himself off the rail, he yawned. A hot meal and a strong cup of coffee beckoned, but both would have to wait until after he delivered the news. Then, of course there would be a further delay as he wanted to check on his patient before finally heading off for bed. Carson shook his head sadly and allowed himself a wry smile. Who was he kiddng? The best he could hope for was a tray of cold meatloaf while he sat by John's bed. There was no way he could leave Sheppard, not yet, and despite having a great team he didn't want to pass the responsibility onto anyone else. Why? Now there _was_ a question. The answer, well it might not be logical, but he just wanted to make sure his friend survived until the morning, the first hurdle in his recovery. Only then would he rest, but not for long. Not until he knew for sure John Sheppard was going to be okay.

ooooOoooo

The cold metal bracelet seemed to mock him as he stared at it, stuck fast around his wrist, but for now Rodney was more concerned about the man lying in intensive care. Through the observation window he could barely recognise Sheppard behind the livid purple bruises. His friend intubated, the rise and fall of his chest not of his own volition, his broken body almost completely obscured by all the monitors beeping softy around his bed. Everything being done for him just to keep him alive.

Marie had left him alone for a moment, so he rose from the wheelchair, braced his still weak arms on the sill of the observation room, then rested his forehead against the glass. It felt cold against his aching head, but he still couldn't think straight. This was supposed to have been a routine mission and none of this should have happened, _none_ of it. Even so, once he'd gotten Sheppard home everything was supposed to turn out okay, except this was as far from okay as you could get. John's life still hung in the balance, and as for him, if he couldn't get this damn bracelet off…well he didn't even want to think about that. All of his effort couldn't be for nothing, could it? It just wouldn't be fair if they were both still likely to die.

Rodney slumped back into his wheelchair, and distractedly picked at his IV with no one to tell him off this time. It was late, past midnight and everyone was in bed. Teyla and Ronon had wanted to keep vigil by John's side, but were told to get some sleep and return in the morning. Besides, Beckett was there with him, looking beat, snoring his head off. Deep down he knew Sheppard would pull through. He always did. As for him, with his intellect of course he would get this stupid bracelet off. He wasn't a genius for nothing. Everything was going to be alright…it had to be. Though right now, as he watching his friend fighting to survive, he knew tonight was destined to be one of the longest in his entire life.

ooooOoooo

TBC

Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review.


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks for the reviews and alerts. A special thanks goes to my fabby beta **Sterenyk Strey **who apart from correcting my grammar, has been a source of encouragement and good ideas. But as I have tweaked this chapter quite a bit since it was beta'd - all mistakes are mine.

SINS OF THE FATHER

CHAPTER 11

Hollena lead the small procession down a long marble corridor, into an ornate mirrored lift, and pressed the button for the basement. Even as the door slowly opened it was clear to Elizabeth there was something different about this level. While still similar in layout to the others, in sharp contract to the rest of the building, this floor was both dirty and dimly lit. After leaving the bright halogen lights of the lift behind, it took her a few moments to adjust to the gloomy interior, yet she could still see the anxiety radiating off Rodney like waves. McKay was never the most relaxed of people at the best of times, but his rigid shoulders appeared ready to crack at any moment, and his tense blue eyes were darting about the room, never resting on anything, or anyone for more than a few seconds. Still, after his revelation of a few days ago, she couldn't really blame the man, in fact she was starting to feel a bit nervous herself.

"I appreciate you breaking protocol to allow us access to the lab, Dr, Timouran, but where is it?" Elizabeth could see several grey metal doors, all identical, lining the length of the corridor...

"After everything my assistant did, it is the very least I can do to help, Dr Weir…and please call me Hollena." She walked towards the last door at the end of the passage. "Marcen discovered the lab through here."

Elizabeth watched as Hollena unlocked the door and led them inside. On first appearances it seemed nothing more than office space, unremarkable, with the obligatory filing cabinet jammed against the wall and a worn leather chair sat behind a wooden desk. Except set into the right hand wall was another door, beyond which lay a lab clearly very old, and very, very similar in design to the ones in Atlantis.

Almost as if the room sensed their presence the lights came on dimly at first, until they flooded the whole room, revealing the large framed picture of a man hanging on the back wall…_John_.

"I told you…didn't I? That's why Sheppard's still lying hooked up to a bunch of machines…It's because of _him_…Brantum Forant."

For an endless moment Elizabeth could only stare, transfixed at the startling resemblance of the distinguished-looking man in the picture to her Military CO. She'd seen Sheppard's file and knew of John's wealthy family. Weir even remembered watching Patrick Sheppard being interviewed on the news, discussing his latest business venture. Although at the time she did wonder whom John took his looks from, as there was not even a resemblance between father and son. However this man in the picture was his living image and given the strong gene that John possessed, it did raise a lot of questions.

Elizabeth knew Forant couldn't possibly be Sheppard's father because Atlantis was hibernating fifty years ago, lying completely lifeless on the ocean floor, therefore how could Forant have travelled to Earth?

It made no sense and wasn't even logical, but if she didn't know better, this man, Brantum Forant _could_ have been John's father or at least some other close relation. Elizabeth could see from the startled expressions on the rest of Sheppard's team they thought the same…but they couldn't be related, could they?

"Doctor Weir?" Elizabeth suddenly realised that Hollena had been trying to get her attention.

Hollena smiled sadly."They look very alike, don't they? But from the moment I met Colonel Sheppard, apart from the obvious…him being younger, I knew right from the beginning these two men couldn't be more different. Brantum Forant was an arrogant man, full of his own self importance and completely ruthless, whereas Colonel Sheppard has always been courteous and considerate to everyone he met here. A compete gentleman in the way he spoke to others, the kindness he showed even our most junior staff."

"May I ask how you know about Mr Forant? You wouldn't have been born at the time he was around." Weir asked Hollena.

"My father was one of the labourers who built this building, along with many of the other structures in the city. Unlike most of the people living then, he quickly saw through Forant's charming façade. He once told me Brantum was only interested in impressing the leaders of our government, and those with influence and power. As for the rest, those who did his bidding…like my father, he was obnoxious and cruel. All he cared about was having the work done in time, and of course his research. A great many men were either hurt or killed during the construction because Forant hadn't bothered instigating the necessary safety precautions. But of course those concerns were never addressed, as our leaders were too impressed with his innovations to care about the consequences. They never questioned any of his demands, until of course the first bodies were found. It has taken our people many years to recover from the cost of our ignorance and greed. Nevertheless while I understand why some may harbour hatred towards Forant, I still find it hard to believe that woman, Marcen's mother, could have persecuted Colonel Sheppard just because of a mere resemblance…How is he?"

Weir spoke softly. "Colonel Sheppard is holding his own for now. Our doctors are hopeful he will pull through, but at this stage it's much too soon to say."

A flurry of paper flying through the air made everyone turn to stare at Rodney. "This is useless… a compete waste of time. All I can find are some papers on genetics. There's nothing new here about the bracelet. I may as well give up now, it's over…I'm going to die along with Sheppard."

"_No_ _one_ is going to die, Rodney." Teyla came over and turned an agitated Rodney round to face her. "John is a fighter and he will recover. As for you, you will find a way to remove the bracelet, I know it, because there is no smarter man in the galaxy."

Elizabeth and Hollena exchanged a look of concern, before Weir spoke. "Teyla is right, Rodney. If anyone can figure out how to remove the bracelet it's you. Now, Hollena has given us permission to borrow whatever we need, so let's collect everything lying around then we can return to Atlantis so you can figure this out."

As Ronon and Teyla helped him gather what he needed, Weir walked Hollena into the empty corridor out of ear shot. "Can you tell me what happened to the scientist who died, and let me have his medical records please? I need to let our doctors know what they're up against. Just in case."

ooooOoooo

He was in agony. There wasn't a part of him that didn't hurt, but thanks to the presence of good drugs the pain was less than before, and most important of all he was home.

Shamefully pretending to still be asleep John lay awake for a few quiet moments, savouring the feeling, relived to be still alive…in fact it came as quite a surprise.

The pain was starting to crank up though, so maybe he should let someone know. "Nnnnghnn...Mmmph…"

"_Sheppard?_** Carson**…get over here. I think sleeping beauty is finally waking up."

"R…dny…you…ok?" John rasped, as he peeled open his eyes to see Rodney hovering by the bed. He tried to smile under the oxygen mask covering his face, but another spike of pain chose that moment to sear through him, and he grimaced instead.

He saw McKay reaching for something, then blinked as the mask was removed and cold water splashed over his face,

"Sorry, Sheppard. Here…" Bleary eyed, John watched as an embarrassed Rodney dried him off, then he felt a straw go into his mouth. The cool liquid tasted wonderful against his sore, parched throat.

"That's enough for now, I don't want you puking all over me. As to your dumb question…I am fine. _You_, however look like crap…**Carson**!"

Mere moments later, John felt a cool hand on his arm then saw a pair of familiar blue eyes staring down at him. "Well, it's about time, Colonel. You've given us all quite a scare…especially me. I actually thought I'd lost you this time. Anyway, the worst is over and I think you're finally on the mend now."

"H…w…lo…g?"

Beckett checked his IV as he talked. "Six days. The residual effects of the rack caused your muscles to contract days after the initial surgery. As a result of the strain, there was further internal bleeding, so I had to open you back up again. Unfortunately even after the repair, your body shut down for a while and quite frankly, Colonel, you're a very lucky man to still be alive. Now I know this one here," Beckett motioned over his shoulder to where Rodney was standing "wants to talk to you, as does everyone else, but you need rest more than anything…and some more of my good drugs."

Even as Beckett pushed the syringe into the IV, John could feel the pain cranking down a notch, almost like a slow gradual release from the rack. It gradually became muted, until he could feel his eyelids becoming really heavy. "Th…ks…Doc…"

As he felt the tug of sleep pull him under, a memory of Jusana threatening them with the gun seared through his brain. What the hell happened, how did they manage to escape? He heard an alarm go off in the background and Carson's worried tones asking him to calm down, telling him he was safe, he was going to be alright…he was home. Unable to resist the pull of good drugs any longer, John let the tension leave his body, realising Beckett was right. Rodney was okay and they were back in Atlantis, so explanations could wait for another time, besides he was so damn tired…

ooooOoooo

Satisfied his patient was finally going to be okay, Carson smiled, relieved tonight he could finally have eight hours uninterrupted sleep. He was still concerned about Rodney, but so far his friend's arm was unmarked and he wasn't showing any other symptoms.

Unfortunately, there was no way of knowing how long the bracelet had to be worn before the problems began. However, from all the information he'd received from Tynos, the technician who died didn't start exhibiting symptoms until approximately two months after he started wearing the device, becoming seriously ill shortly afterwards. In the meantime all he could do was monitor Rodney on a daily basis, besides which it gave him a good opportunity to make sure the scientist was taking a break from the lab _and_ remembering to eat.

Food…Carson couldn't remember the last time he'd been to the canteen for a proper meal. For days now it was something from a tray, then a cat-nap on the couch in his office, so he was handy just in case Sheppard coded again. Tonight though, confident John was finally stable, he was looking forward to a hot meal then straight to his quarters, where his bed and a glass, maybe two, of single malt beckoned.

Engrossed in his own thoughts, Carson barely heard the ringing sound of something hard as it collided with the floor. As he checked each of Sheppard's monitors to make sure nothing had fallen off, he suddenly spied Rodney, white as a sheet, staring at the bracelet which once held him captive, lying half way under Sheppard's bed.

Quickly grabbing McKay's arm, Carson pushed Rodney onto a chair and pushed his head gently down towards his knees. "Deep breaths, Rodney…that's it." Beckett then took hold of his friend's shaking hand and took his pulse. At first it was racing, but after a few moments it started to slow down.

"Okay, try sitting up now…slowly, but stay where you are for a few minutes."

Rodney stammered, staring at the metallic bracelet. "Ho…w, Carson? I'm not complaining or anything…but **how?"**

Beckett glanced at the glass of water he'd seen Rodney help John drink earlier, then as unlikely as it seemed, it all started to make sense. "Think carefully, Rodney. Did you touch the colonel with the bracelet, when you gave him some water?"

McKay's blue eyes were filled with confusion. "No, I don't think so, I'm right handed…Wait, I did spill some over him and had to dry him off, but did it touch him? Honestly, I can't remember. Do you think somehow Sheppard was responsible?"

Carson stood back on his heels and considered the matter for a moment. "Well, everyone has told me how much he looks like this Forant chappie, and we already know colonel Sheppard has the strongest gene here. So maybe the man _was_ a close relation…and if that were the case it would be possible the bracelet was attuned to his DNA. From what you've told me all of the papers you found were concerned with genetic research. Also, by all accounts he was a selfish, arrogant bastard, so if you think about it Rodney, why would he make something for anyone else to use?"

"For a voodoo doctor, Beckett, you're a pretty a smart guy. Why the hell didn't I think of that? It all makes sense. The reason Marcen couldn't get it to work properly, and even I, who also has the gene couldn't get it to operate the way it should…or get it off. "

McKay shook his head and glanced down at his sleeping friend. "I can hardly believe it, but it looks as though Captain Courageous here _still_ managed to save my life even when he was sleeping…I'm really never going to hear the end of that."

Carson was pleased to see the colour returning to Rodney's face. "Of course, Rodney it may not have been John at all, it could have been your gene eventually reacting with the bracelet, or…"

Rodney interrupted. "You know what, Carson, right now I really don't care. It's off…that's all that matters. I can figure out the rest later. What's say we head down to the canteen, I'm suddenly starving, and they have chocolate pudding on the menu tonight."

Beckett saw Rodney about to leave and put a hand firmly on his shoulder. "Tell you what, Rodney. How about instead you get changed into some scrubs so I can run some tests, to make sure you haven't suffered any ill effects after wearing that bloody thing for nearly a week. Then, after I'm finished I'll send down for a tray so we can both enjoy some of cook's chocolate pudding together."

Beckett thought for a moment he was going to protest, then Rodney slowly got up and made his way to the back to the infirmary. "Fine, what's a few hours…when I've got all the time in the world."

ooooOoooo

"**Ow! **_McKay_…watch what you're doing with the wheelchair! Don't you think I have enough bruises?"

"Well, that's _really_ nice isn't it? Make me feel guilty why don't you. Isn't it enough I saved your life how many times was it? Oh, yeah…twice!"

"I'm sorry, Rodney and thank you…_again_. Anyway, I didn't know you were counting. If that's the case what is the ratio between us these days. Ten to one, five maybe, or are we even? John tried to turn round his head but the brace on his shoulders restricted his movement. He barely had the use of his arms back, so couldn't wheel himself anywhere. McKay was far from patient, but the usual snark made life seem almost normal.

"_Four to one."_ Sheppard heard McKay whisper.

"Excuse me, Doctor McKay what did you say, I couldn't quite pick that up?"

Rodney blurted. "Four to one, in your favour…**satisfied**?"

A smug smile started to grow on John's face. "_Really, _that many? Well you know, Rodney, I'm just happy to keep my friends safe. Some of us don't count the cost of friendship."

By now, they had reached the balcony, and John smiled as the door opened sending a gust of cool sea breeze wafting his hair. Once outside he saw Elizabeth, Teyla and Ronon sitting around a table containing chips, an assortment of sandwiches and his favourite, pepperoni pizza. McKay headed over to the others, and shoved John's chair up to the table, but not without a huge sigh of relief.

"This is so going to put my back out. Oh, sorry."

As he watched his friends eating and snarking together, John felt himself start to fully relax for the first time since he'd left for Tynos. He didn't mean to be ungrateful, and was just happy to be alive, but being cooped up in the infirmary for the last few weeks was beginning to get him down.

From the moment he'd woken up in the infirmary, everyone had been there for him. His team taking it in turns to stay with him, making sure he was never left alone, keeping him amused, and supporting him though his frustration at being stuck in bed, barely able to move. Their presence even helped him cope with the lingering nightmares of endless hours spent alone in the dark, restrained and in pain. However, what they couldn't do, and what no one could help with, was the whole Brantum Forant thing.

At the time Jusana was torturing him he was too busy fighting for his life to give it much thought, but after Rodney told him what happened with the bracelet, while he was relieved McKay hadn't worn the damn thing long enough to suffer any effects, it left one question. Was it his DNA that opened the bracelet? He really didn't want to believe Jusana had been right. Even thinking he could be a descendant of that evil bastard creeped him out, keeping him awake well into the small hours.

"John, are you alright. Do you want to go back inside?" He suddenly became aware everyone was watching him.

"_Wha_...No, I'm good. What I'd really like is a slice of that pizza." His arms were still weak, and his grip was shot to hell, but he was determined this time to feed himself.

John swore through gritted teeth as Elizabeth handed him a slice and it fell from his feeble hands onto the floor.

"Here, let me help you with that." He felt mortified as Elizabeth took another slice then gently raised it to his mouth. The embarrassment soon faded though, as the pizza tasted great after endless bowls of broth and the usual boring infirmary fare.

"Thanks, Elizabeth. Would you mind, could I have some of that…"

"Soda?" Elizabeth had already opened it up, put a straw in the hole and placed it in his right hand. His hands were shaking, but at least the can was large enough so he could keep a tenuous grip.

John really hated the indignity of not being able to feed himself, but he was enjoying the break and didn't want to take his frustration out on his friends. He didn't want anything to spoil this short respite, in fact he felt kinda pleased with himself for managing to hide his feelings…then he caught Elizabeth watching him.

"I know how you must hate being so dependent on others, John, but Carson told me you should be able to start physiotherapy on your right arm tomorrow." Elizabeth gave him a reassuring smile.

"Am I really so transparent?" John smirked, knowing he was busted.

Teyla came over to join them. "Just to those who know you well. You will heal, John but in the meantime you must let others help you. Accepting help is just as character building as being the person giving it."

John heard the sound of rusting, and saw with dismay it was McKay shaking the empty box, glaring at Ronon who'd snagged the last slice of pizza. He sighed. "I do appreciate your help, and right now I know I can't do without it. So could one of you get me another slice of pizza…_please_?"

"Not sure I want to feed you up, you're heavy enough to push around. Anyway, just so you know, it's your turn next to push me around in a wheelchair. No, scratch that..." Rodney's eyes darted round the balcony realising what he'd just said. Sniggers could be heard all around, and John found himself laughing, sharing in the fun.

ooooOoooo

The solid oak door was just as he remembered it. In fact nothing about the place seemed to have changed since he last slammed said door and walked out, for what he thought was going to be for the last time, over twenty years ago.

Then, he had been an angry young man who had rebelled against the man who wanted to control his life, but worse still, stop him from pursing his dream of joining the air force. These days, he was older, wiser and although John knew his father had still been wrong, perhaps in hindsight he could have handled it a little better.

Doubts about what he was doing here still lingered, and for a split second he wanted to run, high tail it back to Atlantis, his home, where his friends his _real_ family were waiting. John had wanted to make this journey alone but Beckett was having none of it, so in the end he'd caved and asked McKay to join him. They had all wanted to come and support him, but Rodney was the one who started this journey with him, and in his mind, it was only right the scientist got to see it through to the end.

However, John knew the first step he must make himself, so placing his right hand on the bell, he pressed…

A familiar face, now lined with age, opened the door and looked at him with pleasure.

"Master, John. What a lovely surprise, it's good to see you, Sir."

Sheppard smiled at Carlton, who had been the family butler for over forty years. "Thanks, Carlton, its good to see you too. I've come to see my father. When I called the office this morning they told me he would be working from home today."

The older man shook his head sadly. "Yes he was, but he was unexpectedly called to a stakeholders' meeting in Phoenix this morning, and told me not to expect him back for a couple of days. Do you want to return then?"

Deflated, John rubbed his throbbing left arm still held rigid in a brace. "No…no thank you, Carlton."

"What a pity, Sir, I know your father will be sorry to have missed you."

_Yeah, right… _He had already noticed the curtains twitching in the old man's bedroom.

John could tell Carlton had caught him looking up, and saw guilt written all over the butler's face. "Will I tell him you called by, Sir?"

"No thanks, Carlton…he already knows."

John was about to leave, when he thought of someone he would like to meet again. "Carlton, is Martha still working here?" The old man nodded. "Would you mind if I swung by to see her?"

"Of course, Master John, this _is_ your home after all, and I know she will be delighted to see you. If you don't mind me saying so, Sir you aren't looking too well, so perhaps some of her milk and cookies before you continue your journey?" The old man smiled. "They always seemed to help you in the past."

Sheppard knew it wasn't Carlton's fault his father was an asshole, so he smiled at the old man and made a point of saluting the window before signalling to Rodney. Once the scientist got into step beside him he led the way to his favourite place in the entire estate, not to forget his refuge as a boy…Martha's kitchen.

As he entered the homely country kitchen, time seemed to stand still and once more he was six years old again. The big wooden table where he'd sat eating cookies, looked a little smaller these days, but still stood solid and dependable in the centre of the room. Even the old red aga was still there, filling the cosy space with the most tantalising smell.

"_Young John_…is that you? Oh, my, it's so _wonderful_ to see you. But look at the state of you. What happened?" A short elderly woman with a huge smile and slate grey hair tied up into a bun, came over and started fussing over him, pushing John towards a chair by the table.

For an old woman she had quite a bear hug, and he tried not to flinch when she squeezed him a little too tightly.

"I'm fine, Martha. It's nothing. I would however like to introduce you to my good friend, Dr Rodney McKay." John smiled as an embarrassed McKay was subjected to the same treatment...

"Well, Dr McKay, any friend of Master John is a friend of mine. As for being _nothing_, you'll forgive me, young man, if I've heard _that_ one before. Still, I know from experience I won't get the truth out of you, so there's not point in prying further. Never mind, it's just good to have you home. So what would you like? I can cook what ever you fancy. Just name it."

"Just milk and cookies would be fine, and perhaps a trip down memory lane."

ooooOoooo

John's head was throbbing and his body ached, especially his arm. He could really use some Tylenol and a bite to eat, but the bottle he kept hidden in his sock drawer was empty, and he really didn't feel like company tonight. What a freaking mess this was. He had returned home seeking reconciliation and some answers but found neither…the day had been a bust.

The picture of Forant, his mirror image, preyed on his mind. Weeks of endless downtime only serving to intensify his frustration, his need for answers, his desperate longing to know the truth. After having gone though all the evidence over and over again, there was now little doubt in his mind, it appeared Jusana may have been partly right after all. He still believed Patrick Sheppard was his father, but the Ancient gene which he'd always believed had changed his life for the better, now felt tainted and was threatening to tear him apart. John really needed to know for sure, but the only answer to the million dollar question lay in a strong box in Rodney's lab, and he wasn't ready to go there…at least not yet.

Plausible deniability they called it. While the bracelet lay dormant he could maintain that the resemblance between them was just a coincidence. Once he touched it though, and if it worked the way McKay thought it would, then Pandora's box would well and truly be opened and there would be no turning back. Besides if he was wrong, and he wasn't related to Forant, he would be sealing his own death warrant.

All he wanted was to go back to the way things used to be, but that wasn't going to happen, so for now he would settle for some Tylenol and a good night's sleep. However just as he eased himself down onto the bed John heard the buzzer. Before he even got to his feet McKay was standing there looking sheepish, holding a sandwich and a bottle of painkillers in his hand.

"Sorry, Sheppard. I thought you would be sleeping…okay no I didn't. But after the way the day went I figured you could use some of these."

John got up, took the bottle and tipped out a couple of tablets. "Thanks. I didn't want to ask Carson."

Rodney snorted. "Yeah, and we both know why. If he saw you looking like this…"

Sheppard flopped heavily down onto the bed and winced, as he jarred his bad arm. While he let the pain dull down to an ache, he peeled his eyes off the floor and glanced up just as Rodney came over with a glass of water. There was silence for a moment while he knocked back the tablets before the scientist finally spoke.

"I know what's eating you, but you're not him, Sheppard. Even if Jusana was right and you do share Forant's genes, you could never be capable of doing the things he did. Don't get me wrong, I know you can be a scary guy at times, taking down the Genii, doing whatever it takes to protect your people…but killing innocents, no way. Look, John, we'll never know what happened to Forant. Maybe he did manage to come to Earth fifty years ago or, if he built a time machine which is feasible given his smarts, he might even have gone back earlier. But at risk of repeating myself you're _not_ him. The John Sheppard I know is a good guy who would give his life for his friends, to protect the innocent, and he's no serial killer."

"Do you really believe he could have gone back in time, Rodney?"

"I really don't know what to believe, but I do know sometimes we don't always get the answers to every question, no matter how hard we try, and puh-lease do _not_ tell Radek I said that. Get some rest, Sheppard, you look like hell, and I know Teyla's expecting you in rehab tomorrow to work on that arm. We need Colonel Sheppard back in charge of the team…asap. I'm itching to get out of the lab, those geeks are driving me nuts. And Lorne, well, I don't know if he's told you yet, but he's really pissed with Ronon sending half his rookies to the infirmary."

A slow smile grew on John's face. "Yeah, he told me…I've already had a word." He watched as Rodney headed towards the door. "McKay, thanks for coming with me today, and well… _thanks. _You're a pretty smart guy for a geek."

"Finally, the man recognises my true worth! Speaking of money, that was one huge estate you came from. So that would make you wealthy…right?"

"S'upose. I guess. I've never really thought about it much. Anyway, goodnight, Rodney. I'll see you in the morning."

John dimmed the lights, eased his head down onto the pillow and finally felt the tension slowly drift away. He still felt like crap, but maybe thanks to McKay bringing everything into perspective, he might actually get some sleep tonight. Today had been rough, as going home hadn't brought the closure he'd hoped. His own dad shunned him…again, and as for Forant, he still hated the thought that evil bastard could be part of his family tree.

Still, the past couldn't be changed, but the here and now, the future, was still being written. It was up to him now to play his part, let himself heal, get back to work and keep saving lives for as long as he could. His family? Well, maybe one day he would reconcile with his dad, but he was already home, and his friends in Atlantis, the best family a guy could ever have.

The End.

I hope you enjoyed this story, and I would really appreciate if you would share your thoughts with me. As a writer your input gives me encouragement to write further stories, plus I do genuinely like to know what you, the reader thinks. Thanks again, for staying with me on this journey.


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